Beautiful Nightmare
by SharkbaitSekki
Summary: Kink meme de-anon, USUK, Gakuen!AU. Arthur sleeps in class and Alfred finds it funny to tell on him, until he realizes that something is very wrong with Arthur's life and that he has to become Arthur's anchor to reality lest he lose the one he loves.
1. Awake

**Author's Notes:**

**No, I'm not dead. Surpriiiiise. **

**First of all, Happy new year everyone~ Best wishes to all of you and the ones you love. As a gift, I come with more crappy fanfiction! And this time, it's an upgrade: It's a kink meme de-anon. Interesting, aren't I? Anyways, here's the request, so you can get into context: **

**_"A Gakuen!AU request. Alfred, who has had a crush on Arthur for some time, catches the student council president sleeping in an important class. Since their relationship up until this point hasn't been all that great, Alfred makes a huge deal out of it and draws the attention both of other students and the teacher. Arthur gets in trouble and Alfred thinks it's hilarious until he hears some other students badmouthing Arthur. Then, he finds out somehow that something is very wrong (eg Arthur has found himself in some kind of bad situation, something bad is happening at home, etc, could be physical, psychological or emotional stress) and Arthur's nearly reached his limit. Cue angst and eventual fluff as Alfred begins to support him with whatever he needs. _**

**_BONUS: _**  
><strong><em>Arthur actually sleeps in multiple classes and Alfred gets him in trouble each time. <em>**  
><strong><em>Alfred doesn't see how bad things are until Arthur actually passes out."<em>**

**Alright, so let me stress one little thing here about the OOC-ness of the characters. See the first sentence of the request? Gakuen!AU. Meaning a _HUMAN!AU_. Humans don't behave like nations. Humans are more fragile. Humans are more emotional. Humans aren't toughened up by time and wars like nations have. So to stick to realism, the chars will be a bit more... emotional, let's say. I'm hoping I haven't overdone it, but hey, I'm a sap and I love emotional writing, so fuck this, I will make them OOC if I want to. THIS. IS. FANFICTIOOOOOOOOOOON.**

**Okay, so I guess I should leave you guys to read. One last thing, warnings: Story will contain lots of swears, verbal violence, violent imagery, yaoi (T-rated), bullying, and slight homophobia. And OOC. But need I stress that again? :') **

**Alrighty then, dear readers. Here's hoping you aren't tired of me just yet. I bring you another Hetalia fic in 3...2...1... ENJOY~**

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><p>Sleep sounded so appealing right now... To close his eyes, forget his life and screw everything around him in favour of deep, magical sleep... His eyelids had already drooped at the mere thought. Darkness invaded his vision as blissful respite was given to his brain. Just as he started making himself comfortable, though, a heavy textbook suddenly smashed in front of him, jolting him awake with a loud cry of surprise.<p>

The class burst into laughter, which he registered blearily as he noted the teacher.

Aw shit.

"Mister Kirkland, this is the second time this week that I have caught you sleeping in my class! One more time, and I might just have to give you detention." She warned sternly.

"Ah, n-no, please don't give me detention." Arthur gulped down nervously. "I promise not to sleep in class anymore, Miss."

"I'd hope not. You're not setting the right example for other students, Mr student council president." Arthur blushed as he tried to block the snickering and jeering from his fellow peers out. "Anyways, don't let me catch you again. Now turn your attention back to the lesson, Arthur."

Arthur clenched his fists and looked up, glaring daggers at the teacher's back. She walked through the aisle a bit before tapping her ruler against someone's shoulder, turning their attention to her.

"You, too, Alfred. It's good of you to point things out, but please pay attention to the lesson instead of looking at what your classmates are doing." She lightly berated.

Alfred's sparkling blue eyes turned up to her, and he shot her his million-watt grin, saluting mockingly.

"Yes Ma'am!" as the teacher kept walking back to the blackboard, though, he turned in his seat, staring right at Arthur, and grinned, giving him a thumbs up.

The Brit's blood boiled, and it took all his willpower not to flip Alfred the bird and vent his frustration out. Instead, he opened his notebook and grabbed a pencil, trying to concentrate on the teacher and _not _the hushed whispers around him.

Math was probably the subject Arthur despised most. Not just because the teacher seemed to be stuck on that boring tone of hers, but also because said boring tone was used to explain numbers, equations and graphs, things Arthur had never been fond of. So many symbols, and rules, and exceptions, and god, Arthur just wanted to be an author, not an astronaut!

That would be that kid Alfred's dream. Not Arthur's.

Speaking of Alfred.

Arthur turned towards the dirty blond and shot him a disdainful glare, still bitter about what happened that morning. As if he enjoyed missing important classes in favour of sleep. As if he enjoyed going out to the pharmacy to shop for cover-up to use to hide the heavy bags under his eyes. As if he enjoyed being... well, being himself.

Thankfully, Alfred was too focused on the teacher to notice the death glare being thrown at him. His thin brows (unlike Arthur's) were furrowed in concentration as his sky blue eyes avidly gobbled up everything the teacher was going on about in that horridly monotone voice of hers, and he would occasionally glance down and scribble something on his notes.

And deep inside, Arthur envied him for being able to be so... normal.

Turning his mind away from Alfred (he hated him, right?), Arthur dug into his bag and pulled out some work he'd put off from last night, hiding it under the notes he was supposed to be taking. Might as well get some work done if he wasn't sleeping.

As he looked at the first paper (something about the swimming club requesting new uniform bathing suits), a wave of disdain swept through him at the thought of the last student council president. It was partly because of him that Arthur had such trouble keeping up with life.

Dave, the last president, had thought that being president would get him all the girls. All it got him, though, was an unending stack of work. So he just quit, leaving his vice, Arthur, in charge.

With the winter dance coming up next month, as well as the regular work that had been put off by Dave, Arthur was starting to drown. So much work, so little time, along with the pressure being put on him at home and the steady flow of homework and exams coming in every single day...

Arthur couldn't even recall the last time he had time for himself.

Thankfully, the lunch bell saved him, and he sluggishly packed everything before leaving the classroom alone. Maybe he could skip lunch and sneak in a nap in the student council lounge.

The idea of sleep sounded so appealing that he stumbled into the lounge, crashed into the nearest sofa and fell asleep immediately.

…_OOOOOOOOO…_

Thankfully for him, no bouts of sleepiness attacked him during the first class after lunch. His brain seemed to be holding out enough for him not to get drowsy, and even if he had to pinch himself a couple of times in history, he managed to end it without falling asleep on his desk.

As a bonus, he pretended he was giving the teachers his full attention whenever he felt Alfred's gaze on him. Kid was probably just looking for another crack in Arthur's facade to get into the teacher's good graces. The satisfaction of knowing he was ruining that made a small smirk appear on Arthur's lips.

Arthur: 1

Alfred: 23

... Well, it was a start, at least.

The shrill bell suddenly rang, wiping the smirk off of Arthur's face as the class bustled to leave to their last course of the day. As the blond stood up to follow his peers, though, his right knee gave in, awkwardly making him stumble, then regain his composure, hoping no one saw. Without even bothering to check, he stretched and yawned before grabbing his bag to leave.

The lower half of his body felt numb, but he blamed it on being seated for so long. Hey, at least he only had one more course to go.

He quickly switched classrooms and headed for his desk at the very back, plopping down tiredly on his seat and laying his head down on his arms by reflex. He instantly knew that the last period would be a struggle, though, as his eyes burned, begging for respite under his closed lids.

Well, wasn't that just peachy.

And indeed, it was, as Arthur spent half the course fighting imminent sleep off before finally considering it. He was at the back of the class, after all, and the subject of the day looked extremely interesting to anyone who wasn't him... One quick nap wouldn't hurt, would it?

Looking around furtively, he made sure no one was looking before pushing his chair back a little. He slowly crossed his arms on the desk, his eyelids drooping already at the simple thought of sleep. Slowly, slowly, he gave into his human impulses, dropping his head, and finally, finally setting it against his forearms.

He could have sighed in relief if the resulting yell didn't make him want to cry in desperation.

"SIR, ARTHUR'S SLEEPING IN CLASS AGAIN!"

"I'M NOT!" he instinctively yelled back, shooting upright and looking around nervously, quickly spotting the mop of dirty blond hair that belonged to the biggest bastard in the whole wide world. In Arthur's standards, he was, at least.

"Arthur..." the teacher sighed. "Come see me after class. Now all of you –yes, you included, Alfred-, please listen. This is gonna be important for tomorrow's lab test."

But all Arthur could think of right now was his extremely long list of a hundred and thirteen ways to painfully kill Alfred Fucking Jones, and how he could contribute to it.

After class, Arthur found himself wobbling over to the teacher's desk, standing awkwardly in front of it as the teacher looked him over.

"Arthur..." he finally spoke up, catching the Brit's attention. "May I know why you are so adamant in sleeping in every single class?"

Arthur was about to proudly object that he didn't sleep in history that day, before he realized that that wouldn't help his case at all. Instead, he just looked at his shoes.

"I'm just... tired."

"Obviously. Now tell me why." The teacher leaned over his desk and crossed his arms.

"Lots of homework, and college kids next door." Arthur lied through his teeth, crossing his arms in embarrassment.

"I'm sure that's not all. Is everything alright at home?"

"Yes, yes, everything's just peachy." Arthur muttered, wondering if Americans could read sarcasm between the lines easily. He was a master at subtle sarcasm and quite enjoyed it, frankly.

"You know, if something is wrong, we have many counsellors and social workers here, I'm sure you could-"

"Yeah, yeah, seek help and whatnot. Now am I getting detention or not?" the blond cut in, tired of hearing the same speech over and over again. Why did everyone imply that he needed help?

_"Maybe because you do." _

He never listened to the voices in his head anyways.

"Well, I was informed during lunch that you slept during two of the four classes this morning, so I'm afraid I'll have to give you detention with your third offense. Stay after classes for two hours today and copy the dictionary. I'm sure you'll find yourself compelled to avoid future behaviour like yours afterwards." The teacher grabbed a detention slip and started filling it out.

"Uhhh, today?" Arthur gulped down, blanching. "I can't, today. We're Wednesday, right? I have to be home right afterwards on Wednesdays."

"Well then, maybe detention on a Wednesday will teach you not to fall asleep in class anymore." The teacher shrugged and kept filling out his form.

"N-No! I mean, I really, _really _have to be home. I'm already running late." Arthur bit his lip, knowing he'd regret the sudden idea that popped into his head. "How about I do double, but tomorrow? I can stay four hours after class, just give me detention tomorrow, not today."

The teacher stopped and raised a disbelieving brow, staring at him. Arthur didn't buckle under his gaze and gulped down nervously.

"Seriously. I have to go right now for today, but I'm free tomorrow. Please?" he asked, putting his best innocent-child-pleading-his-parents-for-that-expensive-candy-across-the-street look on his face.

The teacher inspected him a while longer, then sighed, grabbing a new slip to fill out.

"Fine. Four hours, tomorrow. Be there."

"Yes sir." Arthur nodded, allowing himself a small mental cheer for the small victory of the day.

"Stay put until I write your slip." The teacher instructed before turning to look behind me. "Now. Yes, Alfred? You've been standing there for quite a while now. Is there something you needed?"

"Finally!" the cause of Arthur's many troubles stepped forward, putting up a work document. "I had a question about tomorrow's lab exam. Titration, and all that jazz."

"Yes, just a moment." The teacher finished his new slip and handed it to him with a nod. "There you go. Have a nice day, Arthur." He wished before turning back to Alfred.

Wordlessly, Arthur spent no more time in heading towards his locker to pack and leave school. In an effort to keep his mind awake during his twenty-minute walk home, he started thinking back.

Okay, so there was this one formula he didn't understand in math... There was a chemistry lab exam tomorrow... He had to mentally prepare himself for P.E on Friday... And Alfred.

Oh that annoying bratty snitching obnoxious handsome-

"Oh no no no no no. You take that back _right now _, Arthur Kirkland." He muttered to himself, looking both ways before crossing the street. There was no way that that stupid American could be anything close to handsome.

Sure, his hair was always so perfectly golden, and his eyes sparkled in the light. Sure, his body moved gracefully during swimming class and squared when he went to American football practice after school. Sure, he looked like a god on Earth and-

Oh no. He did not just go there.

"It's official, I'm delusional." He groaned, shaking his head. "Maybe I should really consider getting at least some sleep tonight."

His brain threw a party inside his skull at the prospect of it.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

**Le short introduction chapter is short. It gets better :D I will post the next chapter in a couple of days. If you're impatient, you can look the fill up on the kink meme, but I won't give you the link C: Find it yourself~ xD**

****The long sentences in italics are thoughts. It doesn't say whose, but it's quite easy to tell. Oh, and Arthur talks to himself a lot. Poor thing's just lonely, I guess xD  
><strong>**

****ALRIGHT, NOW, IT IS TIME TO BE A REVIEW-WHORE. REVIEW PLEASE? C': I love you for reading, please leave me a comment~?  
><strong>**


	2. Tired

**Author's Notes:**

**Holy sh!t guys. You should've seen me when I opened my email this morning. I almost fell out of my chair because of all the faves, alerts and reviews TwT Thank you soooo much, you have no idea how happy this made me. I sincerely thank Miss Panopticon, Paigeolivar4, Waytomuchadoaboutnothing, Tiilly (glad to hear from you, fellow kink-meme-er :'D), rae1112, USUKforever and alguien22792 for the beautiful reviews. I really love hearing what you think~**

**So since a lot of you are eager to read the rest, screw waiting, here's the second chapter C: Lots of things going on, and we learn some important things. **

**Warning: Lots of swearing in this chapter. **

**That is all. Enjoy~**

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><p>"I'm back." Arthur called as he entered the small apartment, carefully avoiding the word 'home' in his greeting. This dump sure didn't feel like home to him.<p>

"You're late." Was the imminent greeting that was heard between the sounds of the TV and the bulldozer working outside on the field next to their apartment building.

"I had to stay a bit after school and the roads were closed for renovation so I took a detour." Arthur muttered, hanging his scarf and putting his mittens in their place. The last week of November had been unusually cold this year. Arthur couldn't wait until winter was over, and it hadn't even started yet.

"Well goddamnit, I'm hungry! The hell was I supposed to do while you dragged your arse outside!" the same voice came, tone going up and down with slightly slurred words.

"Well you sure didn't have to bloat yourself with beer while you waited, that's for sure." Arthur groaned as he removed his jacket. Looks like he'd have to do some cleanup in the living room tonight, as well.

"That's all there was in the fridge thanks to your lazy arse."

"Me, lazy?" Arthur scoffed, heading for the living room and popping his head into it, immediately spotting his father sprawled on the couch, watching an American football game on the telly with a bottle of beer in his hands and many of them around him.

"That's what I said, dumbass." His father took a long swig of beer.

"Look who's talking, you sack of potatoes. You could have moved your bloody arse and have picked out some crackers, at least. Those wouldn't have gotten you drunk up your butt. Besides, there were crisps in the pantry if you actually bothered looking."

"Here you go again, babbling with that useless mouth of yours." His father took one more swig of beer, finishing off his bottle. Dread settled in Arthur's stomach as he turned to hide behind the wall out of force of habit. Right on time as a bottle smashed against the wall where his head was just located. "Now get in that kitchen, little bitch, and make yourself useful!"

"Fuck you!" Arthur yelled back, grumbling swears under his breath as he opened the fridge to see what he was working with.

He was not the best cook, but he was not the worst, either. He used to burn everything he touched before his mom died and left him with his incompetent dad. That's when he actually started learning how to cook simple things, if not to save himself and his sorry excuse for a paternal figure from dying out of hunger.

He lost himself in his own thoughts as he cooked and sighed in relief as he finished. Hopefully, he'd be given leave so he could go up and hit something in his room.

"Here." He muttered once he was done, striding into the living room with a plate of spaghetti for his dad and one for him.

Wordlessly, his dad took it and took a bite, chewing loudly. Arthur didn't wait for him and twirled a bit of pasta on his fork, leaning against a far wall as he ate.

"It's disgusting." The older man finally said, gulping down.

"It's better than what you make." Arthur replied without skipping a beat, ignoring the pangs in his heart.

"Why are you so bloody useless!" his father yelled again, smashing the plate against the ground and spilling pasta everywhere. Arthur remained unfazed, if not annoyed that yet another plate had been broken.

"It's all I can do!" he yelled back. "It's all I can do, and-"

_"And honestly, I'm doing my best, so please don't push me away, I promise I'll be better, dad, I promise I'll get better, I promise I won't make you mad, just please, please stop yelling at me, I don't know how much I can take anymore and please, I just want you to accept me, I just want you to appreciate me, just please stop yelling and GOD, why don't you love me, dad? Why?" _

"-And I can't believe you broke another plate!" Arthur faltered slightly, feeling tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He attributed them to exhaustion, though, and certainly not the way his heart was twisting at his father's words.

"I can't believe you can't even cook right! The hell can you do, then?"

"I can do a lot of things, a lot of things you never notice because you're never there for me!" Arthur replied, suddenly not feeling hungry anymore. He put his half-finished plate on the counter and crossed his arms over his stomach, trying to will the unpleasant ache in it away.

There was a small silence before Arthur's father sighed and grabbed another beer from the case of 24 next to him, popping the cap expertly and taking a swig.

"Just get me some Chinese." He muttered, turning his attention to the telly.

"Fine, but you're the one answering the door. I have homework to do." Arthur replied snappily, grabbing the phone and searching in the small list of numbers on a post-it next to the phone for a number for Chinese takeout.

"Speaking of which, why were you late today?"

"I was bargaining the terms for detention with my teacher." The teen muttered, dialling the number labelled "Yao's Wok" on the yellow post-it.

"Detention again?" the soft, slurred voice asking him that sure didn't sound the same as the one that was yelling at him just a minute ago. And yet, it was.

Arthur figured that his father's unpredictable mood swings were what really made him fear his dad.

"What for?"

"You know what for. Sleeping in class, as usual." Arthur sighed, putting the phone to his ear and listening to the dial tone.

"You should stop it, then."

_"I'll stop sleeping in class when you stop verbally and emotionally abusing me to the point of utter exhaustion." _

"You know I can't. I'm just so stressed, I can't seem to get a good night's sleep." The blond sighed, eyes downcast, listening as someone answered on the other line. "Yes, hello. May I get General Tao chicken please?"

"I want fried rice and spring rolls."

"Fine, I'm sorry, could you change that to fried rice and spring rolls?" Arthur sighed, answering briefly to the rest of the questions before thanking the guy and hanging up.

There was another relative silence where the TV announcer cheered on a touchdown before the older man took a swig of beer and burped.

"You know, you can't become a lawyer if you keep getting detention." He noted.

"I'm not becoming a lawyer, dad. We've had this conversation many times before. I'm becoming an author, and that's final."

"Author-smauthor, that's a load of bullshit, and you know it. If you're a lawyer, you have a steady, high-class job, you get paid well, and you don't ruin the family name with your crap."

"Oh, because you're not ruining it already with yours." Arthur gritted his teeth and grabbed his backpack from where he left it, in front of the kitchen entrance.

"Hey, remember who feeds you." His father's tone escalated a bit, making Arthur flinch. Mostly because of the words, though, and not the tone.

"You certainly don't. You don't do anything constructive with your life."

"I go to work every single day for you, you ungrateful brat. That should be more than enough. You'd be out on the streets without me. Feel lucky I decided to keep you after your mother died."

"Oh yeah, I'm extremely lucky!" Arthur cynically spat back, blood boiling in his veins. "My father works half the time and drinks the other half away. But at least he gives me enough money to stock the fridge and sends me to school for some awkward reason! But he shouldn't do any of those, because really, who needs food and education when you have whores and booze every single night instead? Was that cocaine I found in your drawer the other day, dad? Because I'm pretty sure it wasn't laundry detergent. After all, since when have you cared?"

"I have an idea." His father calmly took another swig of beer, yet Arthur could see the fury in his expression, the blood rushing to his face, the murderous intent clear in those bloodshot eyes. Perhaps he'd gone too far.

"And what might that be?" and yet, the only means he had of venting his frustration at life were here, in this living room.

"You will leave the money for the delivery on the table, you will take everything that is yours, and you will get the fuck out of my sight, good? And then, when you're sure I won't be able to see your ugly face, you'll come down and clean both the kitchen and the living room. Sounds good?"

Arthur glared at him defiantly, yet soon found himself overpowered by the pure, unadulterated rage in his eyes, sighing and turning around.

"Fine. The money's there. Enjoy your Chinese." He muttered before pulling his battered wallet out of his pocket, leaving it on the kitchen counter, and going to his room.

Once inside, he dropped everything on the ground and fell on his bed, the soft, warm covers inviting him immediately. He sighed and let his tired muscles rest before his eyes caught his backpack.

Right. He had homework to do, budget planning for the next month for the after-school clubs to start, and a living room to clean. Sounded like another 2-3 hours of sleep for him tonight. If one of his father's whores didn't stay past 1 in the morning, that is.

God, he was so sick of this. This constant rush to complete everything and trying to balance everything on his plate. He hated the world, and all he wanted to do sometimes was sleep forever. He was tired of school, tired of home, tired of _life_.

He _just _wanted to sleep, was that so hard to ask for?

_...OOOOOOOOOO..._

Arthur rushed into school the next day with a few minutes to spare. His senses were still groggy, and he was still mentally swearing at his alarm clock, like he did every single morning where he was pulled from his blissful, yet horribly brief sleep by the annoying ring.

He ran into class just as the bell rang, announcing the start of school. Panting, he took a moment to catch his breath, trying to filter out the whispers and the eyes trained on him. This was not his ideal way of starting his day.

"What's wrong, Artie, slept in? Are you sure you're even awake?" some jock yelled from the back of the room, prompting the entire class into a fit of chuckles and whispers. Arthur blushed and just rushed to his seat, noting the annoyed glint in the teacher's eyes as he passed by her with a nod of his head.

"Alright, class, calm down. Pull out your textbooks please, and Arthur... Make efforts to listen and try not to fall asleep." She sighed, a simple comment which prompted more laughter from the class. Arthur felt like sinking into the seventh layer of hell and just staying there. Perhaps the devil would allow him to sleep, at least.

He knew just by the feel of the atmosphere that today was not gonna be a good day.

He resisted the tempting call of sleep throughout the first period and felt immensely proud when he managed to squeeze in some note-taking as well. It wasn't like he needed to listen much since his grades were pretty high, but he had to study before exams like everyone else and sometimes found himself at loss the day before, having missed out on notes in a particular class.

When the bell rang, he quickly put his stuff in his bag, and, feeling a bit better than before, he strode out. Still, he allowed his eyes to momentarily droop as he walked, turning corridors towards the empty part of the building where the English courses took place.

He had momentarily closed his eyes, letting the chatter of his classmates filter through his ears, when he suddenly walked into someone. His eyes flew open and he immediately went to say something, whether to apologize or tell the person off, he wasn't sure himself, before he noticed that it was the group of guys from the American football team who kept teasing him all the time.

"Wow, Artie, you should really look where you're going!" one of them chuckled in mock concern. "Perhaps you're not awake yet, huh?"

"I am, now leave me alone." Arthur muttered, looking for a way out, but found himself surrounded. Well, wasn't this just perfect?

"You don't look awake." Another one commented.

"Don't worry, well help you wake up." Another one laughed, and Arthur turned just in time to see the bucket held over him.

Well shit.

He gave a loud yelp as the freezing water (and hopefully nothing else) was dumped over his head, his knees buckling at the sudden pressure. He fell to the ground with a groan, immediately shrugging out of his backpack to keep it from getting wetter than it already was.

"Hope you're awake now, Artie!" the footballs jocks laughed before heading off towards class. Whispers and laughter arose from the crowd present, and Arthur hung his head. He couldn't even muster the energy he needed to push himself up and go to the bathroom. When had he become such a wreck?

Something the colour of skin suddenly obstructed his view, and he drew in a sharp breath, his hand flying up to wipe it. He paled upon seeing what it was.

Cover-up...

"Shit." He swore, realizing that his makeup was running, and that soon, the horribly ugly bruises beneath his eyes would show.

"Hey, you okay?" a voice suddenly asked from next to him. Arthur turned just in time to see innocent sky blue eyes blink at him, a hand extended in his direction. "Do you need help?"

Alfred.

Always swooping in to be the hero.

"Sod off." Arthur grumbled, turning away and helping himself up on his wobbly feet. He lightly slipped on the puddle of water beneath him as he made a move to grab his bag, but Alfred was by his side in a second, steadying him by the shoulders.

"H-Hey, be careful, Artie-"

Oh, why had Arthur hoped that Alfred would at least be different?

"My name's not Artie! Now unhand me, you bloody twat!" he yelled, violently pushing out of Alfred's grip and stalking towards the nearest bathroom, leaving behind a bewildered and slightly hurt American who watched him go with a frown.

Once inside the bathroom, Arthur violently chucked his backpack at the wall, frustrated tears welling up in his eyes. Why couldn't anything ever go right for him?

"Fuck my life." He sighed, grabbing some towel papers and lifting his long bangs out of the way to wipe the running makeup off his face. As the skin-coloured foundation slowly came off, the purplish skin slowly poked out from below. Arthur hated looking at himself like this. It made him feel so weak, exposed and ugly.

He wasn't one for looks, but with dark circles as severe as his under his eyes, questions would arise, and he hated receiving pity. So he just settled for makeup. It did the trick and hid his bruise-like bags perfectly, as long as it didn't come in contact with water.

After cleaning and rinsing his face, he dried it off and fumbled through his backpack, pulling out a pod of foundation makeup and a stick of cover-up. Noticing he didn't have long before the bell rang for class, he quickly drew random lines with the stick below and above his right eye, then smudged the cover-up accordingly to cover the entirety of the dark patch. Then, he grabbed his powder foundation and used the brush to cover any spots left.

Once he deemed it good enough, he stopped and started working on his left eye.

So engrossed in his work, he didn't notice the approaching voices of people. He noticed too late as the door swung open and in strode 4 guys from his class.

"So I told her that she was a stupid whore and she's all like-" the guy who was talking turned his eyes in front of him, only to spot Arthur, who was awkwardly fumbling to put the makeup away. "Kirkland?"

Arthur swore, shoving the stick and foundation in his pocket but forgetting the brush in his hand. He clapped another hand over his left eye just in case the bags were still showing and shook his head.

"Was that _makeup _I just saw?"

"N-No, it was uhh..." completely taken by surprise, Arthur stuttered before laughter made him look away.

"No way. Arthur Kirkland, the angry Brit who always sleeps in class and happens to be student council president wears _makeup _?" another one choked out through strings of laughter, making Arthur redden in the face in embarrassment. Coupled with his sopping wet hair and dripping clothes sticking to his thin, bony body, he looked like the exact definition of pitiful.

"Oh man, I gotta tell the guys!" the leader laughed, catching Arthur's attention. His eyes (or his only visible eye) widened in horror, and he put a hand out to stop them as they turned around to leave.

"N-No, wait, this isn't what it looks like!" he tried protesting, cut off by more laughter, steadily getting farther as the boys exited the bathroom.

"Oh my god, Kirkland, you're such a fag." Was the last jeer he heard before his brain shut him out. Slowly, he leaned against the wall and let himself slide down, his clothes making squelchy sounds as he sat on them.

His lips pursed into a thin line, conflicting emotions giving him a headache (though he attributed it to sleep deprivation again). He didn't know whether he should be angry, or sad, or vengeful, or just nothing. Right now, he was just so... confused. So confused with what he should be feeling, and so tired of thinking about it.

So he just sat there, against the wall, in a small bundle, not knowing if he should burst out into tears or completely cut the football team's budget for the next three years to come.

"H-Hey, Arthur...?"

Oh. Oh, there was one left. Arthur couldn't even find the energy to look up. He was sure he'd see the same worried blue eyes as last time.

"Go away." He simply whispered. "Go laugh somewhere else."

"I wasn't gonna." Alfred pouted, looking affronted. "I just wanted to know whether you needed help or not."

"I don't need your goddamn help." Arthur muttered, staring at the tiles before pushing himself up and grabbing his backpack. "Tell the teacher I have urgent work to do in my office. I'm not going to class." He simply informed him before pushing the door and exiting the bathroom.

Unfortunately for him, Alfred was by his side in a second.

"What's wrong with your eye, though? Are you hurt?" he asked, eyes brimming with concern as he grasped Arthur's frail _(far too bony, were wrists even supposed to be that thin and pale?) _wrist, trying to pry it away from his eye.

"I'm fine, just get to class, Jones." The student council president snapped, slapping his hand away and stalking off. It seemed like his exhausted brain had decided on being angry after all.

Alfred could only watch in confusion and slight hurt as Arthur turned a corner and disappeared.

He just wanted to help... Why was Arthur pushing him away...?

And if Arthur were here and could hear those thoughts, he'd just let out an incredulous laugh and wonder how in hell he managed being so oblivious.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

**It's not just physiological sleep Arthur wants. The term "tired" is redundant in this fill because Arthur's not just physically tired anymore. Just sayin'.**

**Alright, so I decided to go a bit differently for this fill. I figured that instead of being mainstream and physically abusing Artie, I'd go about another type of abuse, just as bad, if not worse: psychological and verbal abuse. Because wounds will heal, but memories won't fade. **

**Alright, so, I hope you're still looking forward to more... Because there's a lot more action coming in the next chapters~ And more USUK~ **

**Please review and leave me your comments :D Even a simple "it's good" or "it sucks" will do, as long as you make your opinion heard! :D So please revieeeeew~  
><strong>


	3. Drop

**Author's Notes:**

**I love you guys so much. 'Nuff said. Thank you so much to Sobubbles1, USUKforever, it's-an-Alice-thing, Mocha MintCocoa, kirklandfangirl33 and Waytomuchadoaboutnothing for reviewing. Your reviews make my life :D**

**This chapter's like an ascent to the climax of the story. The action is not too far away now C:**

**Asides that, warnings include: swearing and... that's it C: I'm saving up the violence for the climax of the story D:**

**Okay then, enjoy~**

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><p>"So apparently, Kirkland is gonna cut the funds for the football team." One of the football players announced at their table during lunch.<p>

"The fuck? He can't do that." Another rolled his eyes at the empty threat.

"Of course he can, he's student council president! He decides pretty much everything!" the one next to Alfred contested.

Alfred simply looked at his friends innocently, munching on his fourth hamburger as he watched the arguments and objections fly.

"We could complain to the principal if he does."

"No way. We'd just tell the coach and he'd give that little bitch his just desserts."

"Why would you even wait for the coach to make a move? If he cuts our funds, all we gotta do is beat him up after school." Another suggested, clamouring replies of agreement arising.

Alfred felt his throat lock up.

"Uhhh... guys?" he choked, putting his burger down. "Is the violence really that necessary?"

"If he takes our money to give it to some pussy-ass chess club, then yes, we'll have to give that little asshole a piece of our mind." Another one cracked his knuckles, eliciting a few laughs from around him.

"But, uhh... You started it by mocking him..." Alfred pointed out, drawing a few incredulous stares from his group of friends.

"No, we didn't. You did, Jones. You started it by telling on him every single time he tried to snooze off in class. Not that that's a bad thing, but point is, you're the main reason he hates us." Another one noted.

Alfred's breath hitched. So... Not only Arthur, but his friends were angry at him too...? But... he was just trying to have fun. Arthur's reaction was pretty hilarious the first time... And the second time.. . And the third time... And the- Oh damn it all, Alfred had done it because Arthur's expression had been priceless all 23 times.

"Were you planning on going against us, man?"

He didn't want this. Things were going too far. He hadn't wished to upset so many people.

Especially not Arthur.

Annoy him, yes. He wanted to insert himself in Arthur's life and get closer to him through whatever means necessary, but he didn't want the student council president to flat-out hate him...

"The hell, Alfred? Answer us!"

"I, uhh..." he fumbled around with his words, a ball forming in his stomach. He didn't feel so hungry anymore.

"Tell us, Jones. You with us, or against us?"

_"If you're gonna insult Artie like that and gang up on him and beat him up and throw him into an alley, then yes, yes I'm against you. I want to protect Artie, I want to be his hero, I won't let you touch a single hair on his-" _

"With you." He simply replied, shoving his burger in his mouth to avoid having to say more.

He would get Arthur's attention, and no one could stop him.

The next time Alfred saw Arthur was in chemistry. Everyone had slipped into their lab coats and glasses, going around collecting the material they needed for the titration test, when he spotted him. Arthur was at the front (and looking quite handsome in that lab coat of his), probably asking the teacher something.

Alfred was so busy looking at Arthur that he almost missed the teacher calling out the group names.

"Alright, so we're gonna make teams of 2, alphabetical order to keep things simple." He then started pairing the students together while Alfred tried to figure out who his partner would be.

Jones, J... H, I, J, K... The first name in K would belong to...

The two boys seemed to make the same conclusion at the same time as they immediately turned to face each other, gapes on both of their faces. Alfred, out of delight...

"Jones, Kirkland."

... And Arthur, out of horror.

It took a while for the two to get settled at their table, seeing as Arthur was adamant on not communicating with him. Sure, Alfred was delighted that he was in a team with his high school crush (don't tell anyone, though. He didn't want anyone making fun of him), but he would've liked teamwork better.

Besides, he liked chemistry, and really wanted to ace the test, Arthur or no Arthur.

"Alright, so we should get started. Could you pour the mystery solution in the Erlenmeyer? I'll fill this burette with acidic solution during the meantime." Alfred decided, letting Arthur handle his stuff while he concentrated on filling the burette with exactly 50ml of the given solution.

The two worked in silence, halfway through switching roles so that Arthur could continue with the burette while Alfred wrote something down in the report.

Arthur gulped down and looked at the laboratory gear, remembering that the teacher warned them that burettes were very fragile. He'd have to do something about his trembling hands if he was to do this correctly.

"Go on." Alfred prompted, still writing down the analysis of what had happened up to now.

Not wanting to disappoint any more than he had to, Arthur nodded and gulped down, opening the burette latch and waiting for a millilitre to drop into the solution. When it did, he jerkily closed the hatch and pulled the Erlenmeyer out from under it, mixing the two substances together and watching for a colour change. The base substance, though, remained fuchsia red. Looks like they'd need more.

His hands shook, helping the mixing process a bit, but when he turned around to set his Erlenmeyer on the table again, a sudden wave of dizziness overtook him, and he stumbled, falling to his knees with a surprised yelp. The Erlenmeyer smashed against the floor, ruby liquid flowing through the cracks in the tiles.

Almost unconsciously, Arthur found himself apologizing. Over and over and over again. And he didn't know why. Arthur Kirkland never apologized. Why was he apologizing now? It felt like it wasn't even his voice speaking in a rushed, panicked tone. Like some other part of him that he'd kept locked up since forever.

Through his apologizing, he heard students laughing and clapping cynically around them, partly masked by the sound of Alfred's worried voice in his ear. Alfred was speaking to him. What was he saying? It was hard to understand when it wasn't even him inside his own body. He felt like he was drifting away.

"Arthur... something... Stop...nothing... say..."

Arthur slowly became aware of a warm pair of arms circling his shoulders, supporting him in his sitting position. One hand was grasping his right one, and his left one was burning for some reason. Slowly, he felt his conscience being tugged back into his body, and the world suddenly rushed back. He jerked in Alfred's arms and took a shaky breath, looking up at him. Panicked green met worried blue, and the world froze for a second before Alfred's words rushed back to his ears.

"Arthur, please say something... Stop apologizing, it's nothing... Just please say something else..." the blond was whispering, every word breathed so close to Arthur's ear driving him that much closer to the edge.

"Uhh..." Arthur finally stammered, his gaze straying to the failed experiment on the ground. "Bloody hell, this sucks." He dumbly muttered.

Above him, Alfred chuckled, relieved, and slowly pulled him up from the ground.

"That's my Artie alright."

"My name's Arthur, and I don't belong to you, bloody git." Arthur swore before sharp pain assailed his left hand. Gasping, he clutched it to his chest, swearing softly. Suddenly, his hand was pulled away by the teacher, who inspected the shard of glass in his hand and sighed.

"Alright, Arthur, come with me. We'll bandage your hand while Alfred restarts the experiment. You can just stick to filling the analysis afterwards." He decided, gently leading Arthur away.

Once at reasonable distance, he sat Arthur down and pulled the first aid kit out, frowning.

"Why did you collapse?"

"Like I chose to collapse in the middle of an experiment." Arthur huffed, putting his hand out.

"Were you injured before today?"

"No, but I have been feeling sick for a few days now. I just got hit by a wave of dizziness, is all." He muttered, not telling the truth, but not lying either.

After so many years of practice, he'd figured out that the best lie was on the very edge of truth.

"Go get some rest at the infirmary."

"I can't, sir, I don't want to let Alfred work alone."

Lie. He just didn't want to miss out on any more lessons... Or was it a lie at all? Maybe he subconsciously _liked _spending time with Alfred.

"Then after detention, go straight home to bed."

"I will, sir."

Lie. The winter dance's blueprints still hadn't been started and it was in a month. Plus, his father's bedroom probably needed cleaning, judging by all the awkward noises that were coming from it at around 2 in the morning last night.

"And tell your father. He should take you to a doctor if the sickness persists."

"I'll tell him that."

Lie. Big bloody lie. Like the man would even give a flying fuck what his son did in school. He couldn't care less about his accomplishments, so why would he care about the bad things that came with school?

"Good. Now there, you're all set. Get back to work and take it easy." The teacher smiled, patting Arthur's bandaged hand comfortingly. If Arthur were a cat, his fur would have bristled at the motion. "And remember, Arthur. If you ever need to talk..."

"I know, sir, I know." Arthur muttered, swiftly turning around and heading back to his workstation, ignoring the furtive glances and whispers destined for him and him only.

_...OOOOOOOOO…_

By the time Arthur was done with detention, it was already dark outside. His hand was numb from writing so much, he still felt humid and sticky, he was hungry and so _tired _. He'd almost fallen asleep three times while copying the dictionary, and had mostly spent his detention time trying to keep himself awake instead of actually copying.

Thankfully, the teacher hadn't commented on the measly three and a half pages he'd accomplished and had let him off with a warning.

The cold winter chill ran through his body as the wind howled. Snow would start soon, and Arthur was not looking forward to it. He sneezed into his scarf and buried himself tighter in his winter clothing, shivering when the still-humid patches of his clothing came in contact with the cold wind.

The last thing he needed was to get sick.

Thankfully, his father worked late on Thursdays and went to a bar after that, so Arthur had the house to himself until up to midnight. The downside was that his father came home with a whore (or two, sometimes) 50% of the time, so after midnight, there would be really loud sex until the early morning hours.

Arthur did his best to ignore it and get work done. He hated Thursdays.

Unfortunately for him, there was a surprise waiting for him when he stepped inside their flat. A package, with a note on it, destined for him. A delivery.

"Well shit. It's my only day off from you and you still make me work my arse off. Bloody hell." Arthur grabbed the package, ripping the instructions left for him off of it and glaring daggers at the address written on the yellow post-it.

Sometimes, his father would leave packages for him to deliver places. He never told him what was inside, but frankly, Arthur didn't care. Whatever it was, it was getting them money, and it was helping them live. So Arthur did it.

And even though he felt light headed and knew that with this delivery, he'd probably be back in two hours, if not more, he quickly changed into his street clothes and slipped back into the darkness of the streets.

Sounded like another sleepless night to him. He really shouldn't have made it a habit of accumulating those one after the other.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

**There are going to be many repetitions and non-grammatical sentences in this fic, with lots of commas and uninterrupted mental rants, because, well, the entire point of having psychological play with the characters is messing up their mind. That's right, the fic is going to have lots of repetitions and mental rants because I looked for giving it an effect of madness, an aura of confusion.**

**Asides that, not much to say here. I hope you liked it, hope you'll look forward to the next chapter, and PLEAAASEEEEE REVIEWWW~**


	4. Clutch

**Author's Notes:**

**Ahhh, you beautiful people, you, what would I do without you? C: Enormous thanks to all the lovelies who reviewed last chapter, so: Brixland, Mocha MintCocoa, Midnight Run inthe Rain, Waytomuchadoaboutnothing, SoraChiistar, Pureh, Sobubbles1 and the-fainting-fangirl. Do you guys know why I write? Do you know why I update? No? It's thanks to you. It's all because every single one of your reviews encouraged me to post more and more~ (And sorry if I answered your reviews twice, I couldn't remember if I'd had or not, but... I rather be on the safe side xD)**

**So without further ado, I present to you chapter 4. Things are getting more and more tense~ I tried to get this fic to radiate an aura of confusion and slight madness to reflect how hectic Arthur's life is getting, so extremely long and redundant thought sequences will be spotted throughout the fic. Just sayin' (: Oh, and if some people remember the paragraph from last chapter... See if you can find it again here C: **

**Asides that, not much. Warnings include... NOTHING! Whoa. This is some fruity chapter I've got :I Oh well. ENJOY.**

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><p>Saying Arthur felt like a zombie in the morning would be an understatement.<p>

"I feel like a dead zombie that just rose up again, died, and rose up again. And died." He groaned to himself (or to his fairy friend, which he curiously only seemed to see when he was extremely tired) as he crossed the street to school.

And if he were in a more rested state of mind that morning, he would have caught himself and kicked his own ass at how dumb he'd sounded with the previous sentence. But he didn't, because his mind could barely register anything at all. His bag felt like lead, the books inside weighing heavily on his back like rocks.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, his tired mind argued with him), Arthur started the day with English, one of the rare classes he enjoyed and made genuine efforts not to fall asleep in, and then P.E, meaning he could take his time between the two classes.

Hopefully, the first period would wake him up. They were doing Shakespeare at the moment, a subject that reminded Arthur of England, his own home and friends, and of a better life. During English class, he couldn't help but let a smile slip onto his face as he followed along the current reader as the students took turns narrating the play.

So engrossed in his perfect world of bliss and happiness, he didn't notice when Alfred turned his gaze from next to him to check the page they were on, but noticed the small, almost shy smile on the Brit's face instead.

The two boys spent the entire class with their stares frozen. Arthur drank in Shakespeare's soothing, familiar words, to recall when he was feeling sad and lonely as Alfred worked on analysing, mapping and archiving the rarely serene expression on Arthur's face, to remember when he was feeling rejected and lovesick.

Time seemed to pass too quickly for them, the shrill sound of the bell snapping them out of their trances simultaneously. Both packed up without another word and left with the crowd of students, towards the gym.

While Alfred was jumping up and down in glee at the prospect of P.E class, Arthur was mentally begging whatever god was willing to listen to him at that moment to spare him.

He barely had the energy to walk in a straight line (he actually had to use the walls to make sure his blurry vision didn't fail him), much less run laps and play volleyball with a gang of football players.

The boys and girls separated at the changing rooms, each going their own way. A jeering cry of "Hey Artie, you're in the wrong changing room!" reminded Arthur that he still needed to cut the football team's funds, but asides that, he simply changed in relative silence, quickly slipping into his shirt and shorts and unknowingly blocking a pair of worried blue eyes from analysing his bony, too-pale body.

The simple action of stepping into the gym and smelling the heavy, sweaty air made another wave of dizziness rush to him, sending him grabbing for the nearest hold to keep him from falling. Once steadied, he took a deep breath and bravely ventured inside. At worst, he'd just take it light, to keep his blurry vision from taking him tumbling. Everyone knew P.E wasn't his best subject, too, so he could get off easy if he acted it out right.

_...OOOOOOOO..._

For the millionth time that day, Arthur swore that someone must have been angry at him as he ran a warm-up lap, horrible nausea making his head spin in scary circles. Perhaps god was mad at him for using his name so freely while swearing at his father the other night. It would make a lot of sense, and would explain why nothing was on his side today.

"Alright, that's enough warm up!" the gym teacher called once he thought he'd prepared (more like tortured, in Arthur's point of view) the class enough.

The students, most of whom had run around three laps (Arthur prided himself in running one while in his condition. And he would kill anyone who made fun of him for it. Honestly, he felt horrible, but he wasn't about to tell anyone that), all gathered at the front, listening for further instructions.

"Alright, everyone, make teams of two, and grab a volleyball. I want everyone to practice their sets, so get in teams and pass the ball to each other using overhead passes or forearm passes. Don't let the ball fall." He barely finished the instructions before the students were already rushing to grab their volleyballs and make teams.

Arthur stood at the side, not knowing what to do next. A hand was suddenly set on his shoulder, and he jumped, biting back a scream. His nerves really were dead after last night. Sluggishly, he turned and glared at the biggest nightmare in his life (one of many, he should say), or the biggest pretend-nightmare in his life, since he didn't consider the American as more than a simple nuisance.

Oh wow, his brain really must have been fried for him to think that of Alfred.

Speaking of whom, Arthur guessed that by the way his lips were moving, he was asking to be in a team with Arthur to practice. Arthur actually pitied the poor kid, who would be stuck with him during the entire practice session. As if Arthur would be making effort to actually practice.

Not with the funny black dots exploding in his vision, he wouldn't.

_"Huh. Guess I got those because I pushed myself too hard while running. Amusing." _

Oh, yes. A wire was most definitely loose in his brain.

"I'll go get a ball." Alfred informed him, noticing that his partner wasn't moving. Arthur actually only heard half of that, the noise around him sounding sucked out, as if he were listening to the world through a glass wall. And he honestly didn't know what to think of that.

Still, he convinced himself that _-no, everything is NOT okay, Arthur, please get help before something bad happens, tell them everything, get some rest, you have to eat, you're so small and frail and pale, this can't be healthy for you, Arthur!- _everything was okay and gave a slight nod to Alfred as he came back with the ball.

The first pass to him dropped right in front of him as Arthur realized he couldn't even follow the ball's movements correctly.

In an effort to participate and keep his facade up, Arthur clumsily chucked the ball at Alfred, who made a perfect pass back at him with his forearms, yelling at him to go get it and pass it back.

Putting all his energy into it (because deep inside, he found himself _liking _the pleased, hopeful expression on Alfred's face as he encouraged him), Arthur made a move for the ball, half-stumbling, half-running for it and clumsily returning it to Alfred.

Even if it went completely askew, Alfred never gave up and kept cheering Arthur on as he ran for the ball, returning it right before it touched the ground.

"Run for it, Arthur!" he yelled enthusiastically, watching with slightly veiled worry as the student council president tripped over his own feet, stumbling towards the ball. He almost had it, he was so close... Alfred dropped into a receiving position, expecting Arthur to hit the ball, but...

Nothing came.

The ball just dropped in front of Arthur, bouncing and rolling away. The bushy-browed blond's joint hands fell to his sides, and his eyes were closed by the time Alfred stomped to his side, disappointed.

"Arthur, seriously! That was a perfect shot! You could've gotten that! Seriously, make some effort, because you've obviously got talent, but can't use it! Maybe instead of sleeping during class, you could make some effort to study, and ask your friends to go play outside with you after school, because you have to practice to get better and show everyone that you actually can do something good!"

"J-Jones, I..." Arthur gulped down, unable to muster the strength to open his eyes and glare at the American. Who was he to berate him! Who was he, to allow himself to scold Arthur like that! Who was he to judge him like that! "I-"

_"Honestly, I'm doing my best, so please don't push me away, I promise I'll be better, Alfred, I promise I'll get better, I promise I won't make you mad, just please, please stop yelling at me, I don't know how much I can take anymore and please, I just want you to accept me, I just want you to appreciate me, just please stop yelling and GOD, why don't you respect me, Alfred? Why?" _

Opening his mouth to say something, Arthur only managed a choked sob and a shocked sigh as his knees finally gave in, and he collapsed in the middle of the gym, unconscious.

"Arthur?" Alfred gulped down, slowly kneeling next to him and shaking him. What had just happened? "Arthur, you okay?"

What a dumb question, of course he wasn't okay, and Alfred could see that.

The shock just wouldn't ebb away, though.

Why had he collapsed so suddenly like that? No warnings, no prompts, no reasons, nada!

Common sense suddenly rushed back to him as he noticed a small ring of students around them, whispering as they commented on Arthur's pained expression, even in unconsciousness, or prompting Alfred to do something.

"Someone call the teacher!" Alfred finally yelled, snapping out of his trance. Arthur was in trouble, and this was his chance to be his hero. And he would be his hero, and he would save him from whatever was plaguing him, and he would make Arthur fall in love with him.

Because, well, he was Alfred F Jones. It was in his blood to be a hero.

"Alright, everyone, disperse, give the kid some room." A trained voice came from behind them, and a line immediately opened for the teacher, who knelt next to Alfred and Arthur, immediately checking for a pulse and steady breathing.

"What's wrong with him? Why'd he collapse?" Alfred worriedly asked, a ball forming in his throat as many different scenarios rushed through his mind.

"He'll be alright. Probably just pushed himself too far. He just needs some rest and he'll be back on his feet in no time." The teacher diagnosed, looking at Alfred. "Well, Alfred, you are pretty strong, so I guess you'll do..."

"Do what?"

"Take Arthur to the infirmary. Gently now, hold him by the back and his knees..." the teacher guided Alfred's hands under Arthur's body, helping him lift the boy up bridal style. Alfred's heart jumped in his chest when his brain realized how _light _Arthur was. That couldn't be healthy, right?

"Like this?" Alfred nervously asked as he got up and straightened, Arthur's head lolling against his chest. His still-bandaged left hand was cradled against his chest, his right arm hanging. All in all, he felt like dead weight in Alfred's arms.

"Yes, perfect. Now, don't rush, use the elevators, and make sure his head doesn't hang." The teacher told him before pointing at the door. "Get going."

Ignoring their classmates as they joked on how much of a married couple Alfred and Arthur looked like, Alfred rushed out of the gym and towards the infirmary as quickly as he could without disturbing his Arthur.

_...OOOOOOOOOOOO..._

Alfred all but burst into the nurse's office, startling the young woman when he threw the door open without knocking first.

"Goodness, when will children learn their manners...?" the brown-haired nurse got up from her desk and headed to the front. She swallowed her own words, though, when she noticed that it was Alfred. Good luck teaching Alfred manners.

"Nurse Elizaveta!" Alfred cried, panic swirling in his eyes as he quickly stepped towards her. "Arthur just collapsed during gym, and he looked okay, but I'm pretty sure he's not breathing, and he's not moving, and-"

"Alfred, Alfred, calm down before you disturb my other patients." Elizaveta sighed, putting a hand to Arthur's damp forehead and finding no significant fever to deal with. "You're the one holding him against you, you should be able to tell he's breathing even if it is shallow. As for his stillness, it's pretty normal considering he's unconscious."

"Why is he unconscious?" Alfred asked worriedly, eyes flicking constantly towards Arthur's pained face.

"I don't know. Only he will be able to tell us why. Put him on a bed while I go get my stuff, okay?"

Wordlessly nodding, Alfred simply led Arthur to one of the isolated rooms and gently set him on the bed, as if being too rough could break him into a million pieces. He then pulled a chair and plopped down tiredly next to him.

Elizaveta soon came in with a bowl of cool water and a rag, putting it on the nightstand next to Arthur's bed.

"Alfred, please take his shoes and socks off while I wipe his face." She smiled comfortingly, prompting Alfred to follow her command.

Nodding, the younger teen worked on the shoelaces as the nurse dipped the rag in the water and gently lifted the hair out of Arthur's face, wiping his forehead and cheeks before dumping the rag in water, and repeating with the areas around his nose. She was about to dump the rag again when she noticed something skin coloured stuck on her white rag.

Furrowing her brows in confusion, she wet the towel again and wiped below Arthur's eyes, surprised to find more of the skin-coloured substance on her rag.

Finally identifying it as makeup, she quickly worked on uncovering what was beneath the makeup. What she found was not what she expected. It was so surprising that she couldn't help but let a shocked 'oh!' escape her mouth.

Alfred was by her side in a second, looking at Arthur's pale face, not so pale now that the deep purple circles under his right eye had been uncovered.

"D-D-Did someone hit him?" he asked in a breath just above a whisper, his heart clenching.

"There is no swelling around the eye itself, so I'm inclined to say no... But I can compare these purple bags to the ones people receive when they suffer from severe sleep deprivation."

There it was.

Everything clicked in Alfred's head so quickly that he stumbled back.

Arthur wasn't getting enough sleep because of reasons X Y Z, and Alfred had been ruining his every attempt to remedy to his condition during class. And it had gotten so bad that he'd actually collapsed...

His friends were right... It really was Alfred's fault, after all.

"Are you alright, Alfred? You're shaking." Nurse Elizaveta noted out loud, looking at Alfred in concern.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Artie isn't, though, is he?" Alfred frowned.

"He just looks like he needs some rest, poor thing." Elizaveta sighed, cleaning the makeup below his left eye, thus exposing what Arthur had really looked like under his mask this entire time.

Alfred felt sick to the stomach just by looking at him.

"He's been falling asleep an awful lot in class. Sometimes, I see him skip out on lunch to go sleep in the student council lounge, too. Do you think he has insomnia?" Alfred wrung his hands together nervously.

"I don't know. Perhaps he's so flooded with work that he can barely catch any rest anymore. Either way, he hasn't been sleeping well, nor enough, for at least the past month or so. A collapse was unsurprising, at this point."

"Is he gonna be okay?"

"With enough sleep, yes." Elizaveta smiled. "Now, Alfred, perhaps you should return to class. It is halfway through second period now, anyway."

"But I can't just leave Artie!" Alfred immediately responded.

"He'll be safe with me, I promise." Elizaveta winked.

"But I won't be able to make sure he is if I'm not by his side." Alfred pouted.

"Tell you what. Go to class and tell the teacher that Arthur's out of commission for the entire day. I'll send for you if he wakes up long enough to talk, and you can come see me both at lunch and after school. How's that sound?"

"Promise you'll keep me updated, Nurse Elizaveta?" Alfred asked hopefully, making Elizaveta chuckle.

"I promise, Alfred, and please, call me Eliza."

"Alright, thanks, Eliza. Don't forget your promise!" Alfred grinned, Eliza waving goodbye as he bounded out the doors.

Her smile fell when the door closed behind Alfred, though, and she ran a hand through Arthur's damp hair before gently tucking him under the covers. A quick kiss to the forehead later, she was at the door, frowning worriedly as she closed the lights and left, leaving the door open just in case he awoke.

True to his promise, Alfred was there five minutes after the bell announcing lunch rang. He immediately made his way to Eliza's office, actually knocking this time before entering.

Eliza looked up from her documents and smiled, getting up to greet him.

"Hello again, Alfred. Did you have a good morning?"

"I did. Is there any change in Artie's condition?" he immediately jumped to the point.

"I haven't heard a single peep from his room at all, so I assumed he was still out like a light. We can go check, if you like, though."

"Yeah, that'd be real cool, thanks." Alfred sighed in relief, following Eliza as they made their way to Arthur's room.

Eliza flicked the lights on, Alfred's eyes going directly towards the small bundle in the bed.

Maybe it was just a trick of the light, though, but he swore that the bundle moved.

"I think he moved." He breathed, eyes wide, before rushing to Arthur's side. "Arthur? Are you awake, Arthur? Can you hear me?"

At first, there was nothing, but then, Arthur's bruised eyelids slowly fluttered open, the acidic green irises immediately locking with Alfred's gaze.

Giving a yell of surprise, Arthur jumped back, pulling the covers up to his nose and pushing himself against the wall.

"Arthur? What's wrong? It's me, Alfred!" Alfred gulped down nervously, making a move to get closer, but Eliza's hand on his shoulder stopped him just as Arthur gave a whimper, shrinking back.

"Alfred, love, Arthur's just a tad bit confused right now. Confusion and hallucinations are common symptoms of severe sleep deprivation, so he might not be able to recognize you right now and might be afraid of you." She explained patiently.

"How long will he be afraid of me?" Alfred bit his lip and looked away from the pathetic curled up form against the wall.

"Whenever he snaps out of his hallucination." She ruffled his hair, then kindly looked at Arthur. "Arthur, honey, I'm Eliza, and I want to help. Are you hungry?"

Arthur warily eyed her for a second, then shook his head. All his body felt compelled to do right now was sleep, but he couldn't recognize the two strangers for the life of him (he was sure he'd seen them somewhere before, though!) and that had him on edge.

"Alright. We'll leave you to your sleep, then." Eliza smiled warmly, patting the bed and getting up. "Follow me, Alfred. Let's give him his sleep time."

"Alright. Get better soon, Artie." Alfred wished with a sad smile before leaving the room with Eliza.

It was only when they were gone and when the lights went off that Arthur eased himself back onto the mattress, wondering who those people were and where he was.

No matter. He was probably still dreaming. Funny. He felt compelled to sleep even in his own dreams.

The next time Arthur awoke, he found himself in some room with Alfred doing homework on a desk next to his bed. Groaning, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, rubbing his head tiredly.

Alfred was at his side in a second, bombarding him with questions.

"Are you okay, Artie? Are you really awake? You know who I am, right? Do you know what your name is? Are you tired? Hungry? Do you wanna go back to sleep? Do you-"

"Alfred, shut it. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes and yes. Good enough? Good. I'm going back to sleep." Arthur huffed before falling back on the mattress and curling up.

"Wait a sec, I'll go get the nurse." Alfred announced before turning towards the door. "ELIZA!"

"Git!" Arthur cried, clapping hands over his ears. "I thought you said you were going to go get her!"

"But I can't leave your side, Artie, not when you're so sick." Alfred pouted, making a blush creep up Arthur's face. All the more obvious with the paleness of his skin, too.

"My name's Arthur, twat." Arthur half-heartedly corrected before turning away from Alfred, facing the wall instead.

There was silence for a while before Eliza finally came in, smiling.

"So, is our favourite council president awake yet?"

"Yep, and he's hungry!" Alfred took it upon himself to announce it to the nurse.

"Alright, Arthur dear, think you can stomach chicken soup?" Eliza kindly asked.

"Yes..." Arthur muttered, trying to muffle his growling stomach under the sheets. Unfortunately, Alfred caught it and laughed.

"I think he's gonna need more than just that." He giggled, poking Arthur's turned back.

"He hasn't eaten since this morning, so-"

"Last night. Didn't eat since last night."

"All the worse. It's almost been 24 hours since he's eaten, so we might wanna take things slowly." The nurse smiled. "Alright, I'll go get your soup, so I suggest you stay down. I'm gonna require a physical after you eat, though, you know, to make sure everything's okay."

"Hm." Arthur noncommittally shrugged, moving slightly before closing his eyes.

Knowing he wouldn't get much more than that, Alfred dragged his hand through Arthur's soft hair (despite appearances, it really was soft!) and left to continue his homework. It was, after all, an hour past the end of school, and he didn't want to go home bearing too much homework.

"What time is it?" Arthur asked, as if reading his mind, a mere muffle in the sheets.

"Four o' clock. School finished an hour ago and-"

He would have continued, but he was interrupted by the sound of whooshing behind him.

"Hmm?" he turned around to look at Arthur, only to realize that he wasn't in bed anymore. "EH! ARTHUR!"

"Don't worry, I got our little runaway." Eliza giggled, dragging Arthur back in and dumping him on the bed again.

"No, wait, you don't understand! I _have _to go home directly after school on Fridays, and I'm already running la-"

His word was cut off by a spoonful of chicken soup that Eliza forced into his mouth, still smiling.

Coughing, Arthur was about to protest when another spoonful of soup cut him off before he even started.

"Calm down, Arthur. Eat your food, I'll give you your physical, and then Alfred will take you home. Sounds good?"

"No, that doesn't sound good, because I'm in major trouble because of-" and whoosh, just like that, another spoonful was shoved in his mouth. Arthur finally seemed to realize he couldn't win and decided that the second best option was to finish quicker and go home in time to sneak in an apology. So he took the spoon and bowl out of Eliza's hand with a quick thanks and started shovelling the food into his mouth.

"And I thought I ate fast..." Alfred raised a brow.

"Belt up, git." Arthur simply muttered back.

"So, Arthur, while I take some stuff down, can you answer my questions?" Eliza asked, pulling out a notepad.

"Mhm."

"We tried calling your father both on his cell and at work, but he didn't pick up. The only other registered numbers were at home, and your cellphone. Can we reach him otherwise?"

"Don't bother." Arthur muttered grumpily. "I'll tell him when I get home." Lie.

"Okay." The nurse looked unconvinced. "Take your shirt off for me."

Quickly doing as told, Arthur resisted shrinking under Alfred's inquisitive gaze and returned to his food. The sooner he finished, the better.

"Alright." Eliza ran her hands down his spine, then checked for any anomalies. "You're thin to the point of being considered underweight, Arthur. Is this... normal to you?"

"It comes with sleep deprivation. One big happy package." Arthur replied cynically, swallowing his last spoonful of soup and setting the bowl and spoon on the bed.

"Don't you eat well at home?"

"I do." He lied, though it was hardly his fault since most of the time, the grocery money was either for the barest necessities, or magically disappeared around the same time a case of 24 magically appeared in the fridge.

"Do you eat lunch at school every day?"

"Not every day. Sometimes, I skip to work or sleep." Okay, so most of the time, he skipped lunch to work or sleep. Sue him.

"And this sleep deprivation of yours... How back does it go?" Eliza asked, dutifully scribbling everything down on her notepad.

"A while." Arthur vaguely answered.

"How long is a while?"

"I can't remember." Arthur lied. Why did he keep lying so much when all these people wanted to do was help him?

_"Because they'll judge you, they'll hate you, they'll resent you for being so weak, so disgusting, so pitiful, so-" _

"And how long do you sleep every night? No lies, Arthur, I know I'm dealing with someone who does sleep enough." Eliza asked.

Arthur stood silent, debating his answer. He could twist the truth. It wouldn't hurt, would it? So he could say he regularly slept 4 hours. Not that big of a lie, since he usually either slept either 4 or less...

"Arthur, no lies."

"Alright, fine, two or three. Four if I'm lucky. Frequent all-nighters. Happy?" Arthur cracked, looking away and blushing. There. He'd said it. Now he'd just have to sit back and watch as they all left him for being abnormal.

"I'm not happy with the way you're treating yourself, no, but thank you for answering truthfully." Eliza flashed him a comforting smile. "Now would you tell me why you sleep for about two hours a night?"

"A lot of homework."

"We don't have THAT much homework, Artie." Alfred butted in for the first time since the beginning of the physical.

"I'm not as fast as you." Arthur quickly made up. "And my name's Arthur, not Artie."

"We're almost on the same level when it comes to grades, but even if we weren't, there's no way you spend every single night studying."

"What if I do?"

"You're lying."

"I'm not lying." Arthur huffed, taking a deep breath when Eliza put her stethoscope against his chest.

"Stop lying."

"I'm not lying."

"Stop lying."

"Goddamnit, Alfred, I'm not lying!"

"You are lying!"

"Alright, fine, fine, I have a lot of work to hand in as president, that's all. Budgets to fix, the dance to plan, all that stuff. Dave really left a lot for me to handle and I'm trying to squeeze all my deadlines in." Arthur huffed.

"I like it when you tell the truth." Alfred smirked victoriously.

"Stop it."

"Asides schoolwork and presidential work, does anything ever keep you from sleeping?" Eliza asked as she grabbed a popsicle stick and made Arthur open up to check his tonsils.

That gave him enough time to formulate a response that sounded self-assured.

"No-"

_"Yes, yes, god, so many things are keeping me from sleeping, like our college student neighbours, or simply my father banging some whore right next door or drinking with his friends or watching the telly and he just keeps yelling at me and blaming me for being me and I can't sleep knowing I'm a failure and I hate it, I can't live like this, I'm drowning, you've got to save me, I'm so tired-" _

"-Nothing but stress from school keeps me from sleeping at night. Honestly." He answered quietly.

"Alright. Well, I suggest you hand over some of that work of yours to your vice, because you, mister, are on a strict diet of three full meals a day and at least 7 hours of sleep every night, starting tonight." Eliza announced triumphantly.

Arthur gulped down and nodded, everything running through his head at lightning speed. How could he make sure all the work would be done? Of course, Francis was his friend (as much as he hated admitting it), and he'd get the work done in time for Arthur, but how could he make that work? What about his father? He didn't have anyone he could place that huge responsibility on...

"I'll... I'll do my best." He finally muttered.

"Good. You'd better. I'd suggest seeing a doctor who can keep up with your condition, but if you choose not to, I want to see you here the day of the winter dance to check up on your progress. You've got a month to get better, Arthur. Make it work." Eliza smiled, and got up from the bed.

"Thanks." Arthur muttered tiredly.

"It's really no problem at all. Now we should clear the school grounds as soon as we can and go home, right, boys?"

"Yes Ma'am." Alfred laughed and started packing up while Arthur just slipped his gym shirt back on.

"Thanks, nurse Eliza." He muttered, getting off the bed and stretching before slipping his running shoes on and grabbing his backpack. He only had to wait a moment for Alfred to finish, and then walked through the doorway.

"Yeah." Alfred muttered almost subconsciously before crossing the threshold. "Thank you so much, nurse Eliza..."

"You're welcome. Take care of yourselves." The woman smiled knowingly and closed the door behind them.

The first few minutes of the walk home were spent dotted with awkward questions from Alfred, with short, noncommittal responses from Arthur. When it became clear that none of them had anything to say, they fell into an extremely awkward silence, walking side-by-side.

Halfway through, though, Alfred figured that if he was going to have silence, he might as well enjoy it, so he sighed and smiled, studying Arthur's charming features from the corner of his eye as he walked. Slowly, the awkward silence melted into a comfortable one, each one of the boys lost in their own thoughts.

Arthur had to suppress a sigh of discontent when they finally made it to the front of his apartment building, stopping to face each other for a moment. There was more silence, at first, but then Arthur figured he could swallow his pride for a second and behave like the gentleman he was raised to be.

"A-Alfred?"

"Mhm?"

"Thanks."

"My pleasure."

No other words were exchanged as Arthur looked at him for another couple of seconds, then turned around to leave. He was just about to open the door to access the interior of the building when Alfred suddenly lurched forward, grabbing his wrist and spinning him around.

Arthur raised his humongous eyebrows in surprise, only managing to blink stupidly through the shock of such proximity. They were almost chest-to-chest, faces away by a foot or so, yet so close inside each others' bubbles that Arthur could feel wisps of hot air on his face when Alfred exhaled. He had to look up slightly to meet the other's gaze, considering Alfred was a bit taller than him, and the moment their eyes locked, a jolt rippled through both of them, sending warmth spreading through their frozen limbs.

"Uhhh... H-Hey, Artie?"

Arthur didn't even scold him on the pet name, too focused on the rising blush on Alfred's cheeks.

"I know we haven't been on the best of terms lately..."

Arthur mentally scoffed at that. Of course they weren't, silly fool.

_"Doesn't mean we can't be, though." _

"But, uhh, I'd like to fix that, and uhh..." Alfred looked away, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and slipping it into Arthur's hand, the one he was holding. He then used both his hands to close Arthur's fist over the paper and smiled. "If you ever need anything, anywhere, any time... Call me, or text me, or come see me, or add me on instant messaging, or something."

Frozen in surprise at the sudden turn of events, Arthur could only nod dumbly, whining almost inaudibly when Alfred let go of his hand to step back.

"Seeya on Monday." Alfred grinned, giving him a familiar thumbs up before spinning around and rushing off, leaving Arthur on the porch of the apartment building to enjoy his newly warmed hands and his newly warmed heart.

"It's 'I will see you on Monday', not 'seeya on Monday'." Arthur muttered almost subconsciously, a small smile gracing his lips as he turned around and entered the building. "Idiot."

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><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

**Well, that's that for this chapter. Can you guys sense the ominous clouds looming ahead? :D**

**Well now, I guess that's all I have to say for this chapter. Surprising. Usually, my A/Ns are longer than my chapters. Oh well, don't get used to it. As soon as we get into the technical part of the story, the A/N's will be much longer :I**

**In any case, thank you so much for reading, and remember, when you review, you make me so damn happy, I could cry~ So instead of crying, I post a new chapter. Win-win situation FTW? C: SO PLEASE REVIEW!**


	5. Dead

**Author's Notes:**

**Holy f*ck guys, do you know how high I jumped on my chair when I opened my email to receive notifications for all your wonderful reviews? You don't? Well let me tell you. High. Very very high. 3 centimeters :D**

**I really think that all the people who reviewed deserve so much than just being in the A/N's, but since this is the best I can do, here we go. Thank you infinitely for the beautiful reviews, prussiaa, SoraChiistar, lilsandstorm, Mizu-Chan-Minamino, Midnight Run inthe Rain, Apple-Cola, CrashingUpwards, baconis1priority, Teenage Mouse, xIkuna, Kermit's Cousin, Pureh, Waytomuchadoaboutnothing and alguien22792. All comments and thoughts much appreciated ;w;**

**Anyways, here comes a rough chapter. I will warn you, if you are sensitive to any kind of abuse... tread with caution :I Warnings include: heavy verbal violence, physical violence, lots of swearing. Enjoy, if you can :P**

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><p>Arthur didn't even know why he dared hope that his night would be peaceful. He'd skimmed through his homework in time to make dinner for himself, and had even opened his laptop to hesitantly add Alfred on his instant messaging program. And he couldn't even remember the last time he'd opened his laptop for anything else than research.<p>

He'd also gone to bed early, hoping to catch a few extra hours of sleep before he had to wake up and go to work in the morning. Everything had been perfect, better than ever before...

But of course, all good things must come to an end sometime, right?

Arthur hadn't realized how much he hated that expression and how true it actually was until he heard the front door slam violently, jerking him right out of his blissful sleep.

"Bloody hell..." he muttered, yawning and ruffling his hair, wanting to get back to sleep, but knowing he couldn't.

"Goddamn little brat! GET OVER HERE, YOU STUPID FUCK!"

"Coming, coming, jeez, don't get your panties tied in a knot." Arthur groaned, flipping his cellphone open to check the time (2 in the morning... Why would he come home at 2 in the morning?) and slipped it into his pyjama pocket before sliding off his bed and heading for the front door.

Predictably, there was a very drunk and angry Brit waiting for him there.

"What do you want? You interrupted my precious sleeping time when I was finally getting some, and I'm not happy. Just saying." He huffed, leaning against the wall as his father struggled to remove his boots.

"Oh boo-hoo, the spoiled little baby isn't happy, whatever shall we do?" the man growled, hurling his boots in the corner and all but ripping his coat off his body and throwing it on the floor.

"Like you'd do anything." Arthur rolled his eyes, sensing another pointless conversation coming up.

_"One more year, Arthur, just one more year and you'll be 18, and you can get the hell out of here, go live somewhere else, live your life to its fullest..." _

"Oh fuck you." His father muttered, advancing towards the living room.

He shoved past Arthur, who stumbled and swore under his breath, and immediately fell on the couch, grabbing the TV remote and turning the television on.

"Make yourself useful and get me a beer." He mumbled under his breath.

"Uhh, how about fuck no? First of all, you can go get it on your own. Second of all, beer is the last thing you need right now, you goddamn drunk." Arthur raised his brows and crossed his arms, leaning against the doorsill.

"I've got a better idea. How about you make up for your absence after school by being a good bitch and doing what I say. And I'm hungry."

"Well what the hell am I supposed to do about it? Jeez, perhaps I should just leave you alone to your own devices, see how you like it! Maybe you'll even learn to fend for yourself like I did when you all but abandoned me!" the younger blond frowned.

"Maybe I wouldn't have ignored you if you'd been a better person!"

"I'm perfect the way I am!"

"Who ever told you that load of bullshit? You're nothing, you hear me? Nothing. A bug, no, smaller than a bug, a dust particle whom I can crush without a second thought. You can't do anything right, you're useless, you're just another nobody, you hear me!" Arthur's father spat on the side, glaring daggers at him.

"You can't say that!" Arthur yelled back, his heart twisting as his brain unwillingly stored the awful words. "Who are you to say that! You've spent so much time drunk that you probably don't even remember my birthday!" he choked on his words. "You don't know who I am, dad. Where have you been all my life?"

"I've supported you your entire life, you little shit. It's thanks to me that you can sleep in a bed and eat a hot meal and go to school! You ungrateful brat, what else do you want from me!"

"I want to live, dad, I want to live! You're not letting me! You're hurting me in so many ways that I can't even think right, I can't even live right!" Arthur clapped his hands over his ears to muffle the self-deprecating comments ringing in his ears.

"Perhaps if you weren't such a failure, I wouldn't have to remind you every single day!" the man yelled back so hard, Arthur heard it even through his closed ears.

"Shut up, shut up! Stop it! Who are you to tell me I'm a failure? Look at yourself, look at what a mess you are, and then try to tell me I'm a failure!" he screamed back, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Shut the fuck up! I just want a fucking beer, is that so fucking hard to ask for!" a frustrated noise tore out of the older man's throat, making shivers of fear run down Arthur's spine.

"Fine!" he yelled back, stomping into the kitchen and coming back out with a bottle of beer. He walked over to the table next to the couch and slammed the bottle on it, almost breaking the glass. "You're such a fucking alcoholic, dad! I can't believe you're letting things like alcohol and prostitutes replace your own son!"

"How is it my fault that the combination of both is so much better than looking at your face?" his father huffed, grabbing the beer and popping the lid off, taking a long, hard swig of it. "Get me the phone."

"No!" Arthur yelled, enraged by his father's attitude. "You go fucking get it, because you know what, I'm not your slave! I'm not some goddamn servant you can order around and expect to do everything! I'm human, dad, I have feelings, and you're completely obliterating them one day at a time!"

"Listen to me, you little-"

"Stop it, I'm not listening anymore! God, do you even know who I am? Do you know you had a son? His name's Arthur, dad, and he's seventeen. He goes to the local high school and he's a fucking mess because of you!" Arthur sniffled, trying to hold the tears in. "You haven't called me by my name in years, dad! It's always 'little bitch this' or 'fucking whore that' and GOD, I'm so... so..."

_"Exasperated, disappointed, hopeless, why won't you love me, dad? Why won't you call me by my name and praise me, just once? Why am I such a hopeless failure, why can't I make you happy? Why can't you love me, dad? Why?" _

"I'm so tired of this!" he took a shuddering breath, trying to calm himself.

"No wonder my brothers left you as soon as they could. They're lucky, at least, they don't have to suffer through your nonsense. You have no idea how glad I am that Alasdair took Peter with him when he left, because you would completely break the poor thing, just like how you're breaking me. No one acknowledges you as a figure of authority, dad, because you've lost it. You've completely lost it, and now you're nothing more than some angry drunk passed out on a couch. Maybe you don't realize it, but I cared, I cared when the others didn't. And you just went and abused my trust, and I regret ever feeling compassion for you."

"You're too stupid to realize your mistakes."

"This is what I mean, dad. Why are you trying to hurt me? What have I ever done to you? Is it in your nature to want to wear people down until they are nothing but a trembling, self-deprecating mass of flesh and bones? Does it amuse you to see me broken? Where were you today, when I passed out in gym? They called you, but you never picked up. Where were you these past few months, when I've been struggling with severe sleep deprivation symptoms and stress? Where were you all my life?"

Arthur sniffled again, and the tears almost escaped his eyes when he noticed the look of pure _boredom _in his father's eyes.

He never did care.

"Fuck you, dad. I see the truth now. You're a horrible person, and I regret ever being born as your son." Arthur wiped the tears away before they could fall. "Maybe that's why she left us."

His father tensed.

"Maybe that's why mom's not with us anymore."

"Don't you bring that up, you fucking little bitch, or I'll-"

"Or you'll do what, dad? You'll tell me I'm a failure? You don't have to, I know I am. I've already cracked, thanks to you. You've always been the sadistic kind." Arthur licked his dry lips and gulped down nervously. "Deep inside, everyone in the family knew that mom committed suicide because of you and your unbearable tendency to-"

He never finished the sentence. In a second, his father was up and clutching his bottle of beer tightly. Arthur barely had time to put his arms up before the glass shattered, ripping through his pyjamas and injuring his forearms.

Next thing he knew, there was a hand around his throat, and he was pulled down towards the ground. He let a loud cry when his temple hit the table, and another mixture between a yelp and a gasp as he was slammed on the ground.

For an angry drunk, his father sure did move fast, he morbidly noted, as the swimming in his eyes decreased enough for him to realize that his father was sitting on his upper stomach, one hand loose on his throat, and the other holding his bony wrists up over his head.

"God, you're such a waste of space! Fucking parasite, just leeching off my hard work and pretending you're so high and mighty!" his dad yelled, shaking him and making him choke.

"D-D-Dad, I c-c-can't b-breathe!" Arthur struggled, but his hands were pinned so tightly that he couldn't do anything more than wiggle.

"Fucking hell, you're always whining, and wanting more, but you know what? You're just another guy in the street. No one cares, no one gives a flying fuck what you do and what happens to you!" Arthur's eyes widened, and the tears he tried so hard to contain finally ran down his cheeks

"T-That's not true! Someone does care!" Flaxen golden hair and sky blue eyes, like a wheat field on a bright, sunny day. "I just wish you did, too!" he then choked as the grip got stronger. Black dots were starting to explode in front of his eyes, like they were doing during gym class that morning.

_"Oh god, oh god, oh god, I can't even speak anymore, I can't breathe, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, but I don't wanna die, god, someone save me, please, please, I'm sorry, I don't want to die, not when everything's just starting to get better, not when someone's finally saved me, please, please, let me go, I want to live, I just want to live!" _

"Why should I care when you're just a spoiled brat? When you learn to appreciate the things I do for you, maybe I'll start caring!"

At this point, Arthur didn't care what shreds of pride he had left, he just wanted to live, even if he had to endure the hurtful words every single day, over and over again.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, now please, please let go, you're hurting me!" fresh tears squeezed out of his eyes, his thrashing getting more violent. "I'm sorry, s-so sorry, please, I-I don't want to die, d-dad, you're hurting me, it hurts, please let go, please, get off, I'm sorry, I'm s-sorry..." he sobbed, trembling.

"Yeah, well, I'm sick and tired of you. Perhaps you should go join your mother after all. One less pain in the arse for me." Arthur choked and struggled to take shaky, whistling breaths. At this rate, he'd either slowly choke to death or somehow live and retain permanent damage to his throat. He wouldn't count on the second option, though, as morbid as it sounded to himself, even.

Through the advancing darkness, Arthur thrashed one last time, hoping for a miracle... And lo and behold, his knee hit his father's spine harshly, causing his grip to loosen on his hands. Sensing freedom at his fingertips, Arthur slipped his right hand out, curled it in a fist, and, putting all his strength behind it, he punched his father right in the face.

The resulting crack sounded like sweet music to Arthur's ears. The grip on him immediately loosened, and he momentarily cheered in his mind before air came back rushing to him, making his head spin. His forearms hurt, his head hurt, his throat hurt, and he realized he was taking shallow, shuddering breaths, but amid all that, his frantic brain decided that the best course of action would be to run.

Rolling out from underneath him, Arthur tried getting up, but found his knees too weak to support him. Coughing pathetically, he crawled towards the door, trembling limbs helping him pull himself across the floor. Behind him, his father was swearing up and down, clutching his broken nose and stumbling around. Arthur thanked whoever was listening in his head for making his father so drunk.

After what seemed like forever, he reached the front door, and pulled it open, ignoring his father as he finally, after years and years of disregarding it, called his name. Too little, too late.

The moment the door closed behind him, leaving him in the empty hallway, he coughed again, falling flat on his stomach. His fight-or-flight instincts had kicked in, though, and they were telling him that the front porch wasn't far enough.

He had to get away, he had to run.

So he did. Using the railing at the stairs, he painstakingly pulled himself up on shaky knees and stumbled down the steps, barely catching himself in time. Thankfully, their flat was on the second story, so he didn't have to make much effort until he was outside, in the cold winter air, wearing nothing but his ripped pyjamas and socks.

Soft snow was falling from the sky, creating small patches of white on the grass. One snowflake landed on Arthur's nose and melted, making him shiver and snapping him back into action. He walked a bit more towards the street and collapsed on the sidewalk just outside the apartment building. His weak knees, along with his newly-frozen toes, couldn't support him anymore, so he pathetically crawled against the pine tree next to him and curled up.

A gust of wind made him shiver, and as the adrenaline died down, he realized that going out without a coat wasn't the best of ideas. In an effort to keep himself warm, he shoved his hands into his pyjama's pockets, wincing when he came in contact with a cold, foreign object. Curious, he pulled it out, his heart soaring with newfound hope as he recognized his cellphone.

He had to call someone to save him. The police, yes, he could call the police, they'd come pick his dad up and send him to jail, they'd save him, they'd call his brothers to come get him...

Or that hotline for troubled teens. He'd call them, they could tell him what to do. After all the times the teachers had hinted for him to use the given resources, this was the right moment.

He had to call a higher authority, he had to let them know that no, everything was not fine, and that he desperately needed help, and that he couldn't do this alone.

Nonetheless, the voice he heard on the other line after he unconsciously typed a number in was not a professional tone, but a voice that sounded very sleepy and very _American _.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

**Yeah, I know you guys love me. *ducks at flying kittens and spoons being thrown at her* I REGRET NOTHIIINGGGGG.**

** Well then... Can you say "Deus Ex Machina"? OTL**

**Sorry for thrusting such... heavy subjects at you all of a sudden. The storm's not over, but at least a part of it has come to pass? ;w; In any case, I hope you liked this chapter, despite its general gloominess D: And please leave a comment, or your thoughts, or your complaints, or if you want to throw anything at all at me for leaving you hanging like this... The review button's the way to go ;w;**


	6. Fall

**Author's Notes**

**My life = made. Your comments leave me speechless every single time, you guys xD The general opinion, is, though, that's Arthur's dad is a bastard. Don't worry, I think so, too. I can't wait 'till he's out of the picture C: **

**Once again, thank you roll for everyone who reviewed and who makes my life just so much brighter with a few (or sometimes, many xD) simple words: prussiaa, Brixland, Lady Skorpio, XxTenshIxX97, SoraChiistar, Canada Cowboy, bambooHP, Paigeolivar4, Mocha MintCocoa, RawrGodzirra, bluebird99, Waytomuchadoaboutnothing, alguien22792, Apple-Cola and Pureh~**

**Passages in **_italics AND underline_** are flashbacks from earlier chapters.**

**Well then, here goes for another chapter~ Warnings for this one include: swearing, mentions of physical abuse, blood, OOC (remember: they're HUMAN). Enjoy~**

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><p>"Hello? Who is this?"<p>

Arthur's throat locked, and he let out a choked sob. There was shuffling on the other end.

"Hello? Are you okay? Is anyone even there?"

Why had he called Alfred, out of all the people in the world? Alfred was just annoying, right? He wasn't even a higher figure of authority who could help him!

"If there's no one on the other side, I'm gonna close the phone."

But Alfred was all he had right now. And right now, he had to take what he could get.

"Alfred...?" he breathed into the phone, wincing when his cracked voice rasped.

There was a bit of silence on the other side, and Arthur's heart flipped in worry. What if Alfred had already closed the phone? What if he was too late? What if-

"Artie?"

Oh good god, he hadn't closed the phone. Arthur could have laughed in glee if he weren't so tired and disoriented. His head hurt so bad, it was hard for him to think straight.

"Artie, is that you?"

"Alfred, I..." What could he tell him, though? That his psychologically and verbally abusive father figure had just tried to strangle him to death and that he'd closely escaped death and had called him, of all people, for some awkward reason?

"Is everything okay over there, Arthur?" Alfred asked again, his tone dropping low and serious.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Arthur didn't lie.

"No."

And it felt amazing to have all the weight put on him just fly away with the single two-lettered word. Arthur didn't think he'd ever felt so free before.

"What's wrong? What's going on? Are you hurt? Who's there with you?" Alfred immediately jumped to the questions, worry seeping into his tone.

"Alfred, I don't know what to do anymore..." he rasped, sobs lacing his voice. "It... It hurts... so much..."

"Dude, are you crying?" Alfred gasped on the other line, and there was heavy shuffling and thudding. "Don't move an inch, Artie, I'm coming to get you. Where are you?"

Arthur would have answered, but his throat felt locked. Either because of the pain, or the sadness, or the confusion of _"Why? Why would Alfred wake up at 2 in the morning to talk to me, to comfort me, to help me, to rush all the way to my house to get me when I barely know him, and hated him a couple of days ago? Why?" _.

Or maybe, the real question that should have been read between the lines was _"Why does Alfred care for a failure like me? I haven't done anything to please him, and yet he cares. Why?" _

Either way, he didn't answer until Alfred shouted something on the other line and there was the sound of a closing door. Alfred was coming for him. He was saved.

"Arthur, please, tell me where you are so I can come get you!"

But he couldn't. The sudden hope and joy that had soared in his heart had added themselves to the knot of emotions in his throat, refusing to let him speak.

"Are you at your place? I'll go there, first. Are you even there, Arthur?" Alfred sounded panicked.

"I'm here..." Arthur finally managed after a small silence. "Pine tree... front entrance." He choked, lapsing into a coughing fit right afterwards as a gust of cold air burned its way down his abused larynx.

"Okay, I'm not far, just hang on, okay? Keep talking to me, tell me what happened."

"C-Can't." Arthur shook his head, not registering that Alfred couldn't see him. "C-Cold..."

"Hang on, keep your extremities warm, don't worry." Alfred was starting to pant through the phone, probably because he was running, as Arthur figured.

"Hurts..."

"Don't worry, I'm almost there, it's okay."

Arthur nodded, coughing again and shivering.

"I can see your building. I'll be there in a minute. Hang on, Artie."

Arthur didn't reply, unable to think. He momentarily forgot how to speak and just closed his mouth, staring at the snow falling and piling up on the frozen ground.

Soon, the panting was heard not only in his ear, but by his side as well. Arthur put the phone down mechanically, looking up to see Alfred running for him. The American was by his side in a second, grabbing his shoulders and scanning his unfocused eyes.

"Arthur, can you hear me?" he breathed, his hot breath coming in cold wisps of air.

"Mhm..." Arthur mumbled, his blurry vision keeping him from seeing the intensely worried look in Alfred's eyes.

"Alright, I'm gonna pick you up." Alfred warned before putting his arms around Arthur and lifting him up bridal style for the second time in the past 24 hours.

The first thing he was aware of, though, was how cold Arthur was. The fact that he was only wearing pyjamas and socks (and cotton, at that, too!) only registered a moment later when he realized that the Brit was shivering uncontrollably.

"Oh my god, Arthur!" he gasped in disbelief, shifting him in his arms before he turned around to leave. "You're freezing! Are you completely out of your mind, coming out here without protection! You could catch hypothermia really easily. What's with you today?"

"I'm sorry..." Arthur choked, his emotions running wild amid all the confusion in his head. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't yell, I don't mean to be bad, I'm not doing it on purpose..."

"Arthur?" Alfred sucked in a sharp breath, which Arthur must have taken as an angry move because he curled up tight and put his hands over his ears.

"Please don't be angry as well, Alfred, I'll change, I promise I'll change." Arthur hiccupped, eyes unfocused, yet staring at Alfred's chest. "You're all I have left, please don't hate me..."

"Oh god, Arthur, I don't hate you, of course I don't." Alfred gaped in horror, his heart clenching as he looked at Arthur's face, riddled with tear tracks and the most heartbreakingly anguished expression ever. "Don't ever change, Arthur, you're perfect the way you are." And he really was, because Alfred loved him just the way he was.

"I'm not perfect, I'm horrible, I'm a failure..." Arthur choked, sniffling loudly.

"Who told you that, Arthur?" Alfred frowned, pieces of the puzzle that was Arthur finally clicking together.

"Dad did..."

"It's not true. It's the biggest lie on Earth. You're amazing as you are, Artie, so don't ever change." Alfred assured him, clutching him tighter so that he wouldn't notice the lack of a smile on his face. He just couldn't get over the shock of the ongoing events. There were some instances when he couldn't even muster a smile.

Arthur just answered with a noncommittal noise and burrowed himself into Alfred's jacket. For his part, Alfred just held him closer as he crossed the street, heading for his own house.

"Tell me what happened and why you called me to come get you at 3 in the morning." Alfred finally demanded.

"Please don't be angry..."

"I'm not angry at you, Arthur... I'm angry at whoever did this to you." And Alfred had a pretty good idea of who that was.

"You'll laugh at me."

"I won't."

"You'll think I'm weak."

"I won't."

"You'll hate me."

"I won't."

"...Promise...?"

"I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die."

But weren't promises made to be broken? How could Arthur trust Alfred, whom he'd known for a minimal amount of time? How could he trust the overenthusiastic teen when he couldn't even trust his own flesh and blood? The questions only added pressure on his cluttered mind and it made him want to speak up even less. Still, Arthur bit his lip and decided that he had to start recovering some day. Alfred could be his starting point.

"Dad got really angry today. We just yelled at each other like we do every day, and he just kept saying these really awful things, and I didn't want to believe him, but maybe he's right?" he gulped down, resisting the frustrated sob that was threatening to tear out of his throat. "A-And he said he didn't care, that he never cared, and that I'm just useless and stupid and horrible and disgusting and that I don't deserve to live, and I don't want to believe him, but I do." Panic was starting to lace his tone, his words starting to sound incoherent.

"You shouldn't believe what he says. You're a wonderful person, Arthur, and he's lying to you to make himself feel better. Don't listen to him, ever."

"He's in my head, Alfred, get him out, get him out! I can't stop, it hurts, it hurts so much, please make it stop, Alfred, please make it stop." His voice cracked towards the end and a lone tear ran down his eyes. Alfred's heart skipped a beat at the sight of it and he cradled Arthur closer, like a fragile child.

"Don't worry, I'm here now. You're safe with me, Arthur. I promise, nothing will ever hurt you ever again." Alfred whispered gently.

"H-He tried to kill me..." the Brit whimpered, flashbacks replaying endlessly in his broken mind. "H-He put his hands are my throat and squeezed and I couldn't breathe, I felt like I was drowning, my lungs were on fire, and it hurt so much, I was so scared I was going to die! I didn't want to die, I really didn't, I was so terrified, I couldn't breathe, and I'm losing my mind, aren't I? I'm going crazy, aren't I?"

"No, you're not crazy, Arthur. After what happened, it's understandable that you'd be scared. You're just a bit traumatized right now, but you'll get over it. You're too strong and too proud to let yourself get trampled over by something like this." Alfred reassured him, trying to hide his own disgust to try and get Arthur to calm down. Of course he was horrified that Arthur's own father had tried to kill him. Of course he was horrified to know that all this time, Arthur was suffering, and that he'd never said a single thing or requested any help.

But he didn't show it, because if he, the hero, was to be scared, who would save Arthur from his misery?

"Why do you believe in me so much, Alfred? We barely know each other." Arthur blinked up at him.

"You're strong, Arthur, I know you are. You might not know me, but I know you. I know a lot about you, and it would be creepy if I didn't have my motives."

"What would those be?"

"You're a wonderful person, Arthur, and for a very long time now, I've wanted-"

_"To sweep you off your feet, to steal you away, rob you of your pain and suffering, kiss away the tears, the stress, the anxiety plaguing your lovely eyes, hug you close and never let go, hold you and whisper loving words in your ear until you smile and brighten my day, watch you laugh and laugh with you, I want to hold you, kiss you, love you-" _

"-To be your friend." Alfred slid his best fake smile on, because now was not the time to let Arthur know how he'd really felt the entire time.

Arthur might not even reciprocate his feelings, and that'd end in total disaster for both of them.

"I'm a failure, why would you want to be my friend?" Arthur threw a weary gaze at Alfred.

"Don't let words poison your mind, you're not a failure. On the contrary, you're smart, funny, and a mystery in your own special way. And I, for one, never want you to change, because you're amazing just the way you are."

The sight of Alfred smiling like that made Arthur want to laugh and cry at the same time. So he did. Letting out a choked noise that was a mix between laughter and a sob, he threw his arms around Alfred's neck and buried his nose in his scarf, smelling that special scent that was so unique and so _Alfred _, and that he loved so much.

Thanking the darkness for hiding the massive blush that attacked his cheeks, Alfred smiled serenely and held Arthur tight.

"You silly boy..." Arthur finally sighed, voice laden with tears. Alfred prided himself in knowing that he'd been the one to change those tears from sad tears to happy tears.

"It's what I do. Now relax, take deep breaths, you're okay... I'm going to take you home and-"

"O-Oh god, p-please don't make me go back, please, you can't make me go back!" Arthur suddenly interrupted with a squeak, eyes wide in terror as he grasped Alfred's back tightly.

"You'll never have to go back if you don't want to, Arthur. I'm taking you home, now. And your home is with me." Suddenly feeling bold, Alfred turned his head a bit and pressed a soft, chaste, reassuring kiss on Arthur's earlobe.

Arthur froze, but looked up, locking gazes with Alfred, as if trying to determine if he was lying or not.

"It... It is...?" finally, he just settled for insecurity, tears still brimming at the edge of his eyes.

Alfred couldn't help but think that he looked so much cuter than usual when he was like this.

"Yes, it is. Your home has always been with me, and my heart will always be your home, Arthur."

To which Arthur only replied by pressing his face into Alfred's neck again and bursting into a fresh wave of muffled, relieved cries.

_...OOOOOOOOOOO..._

"Mattie, we're home!" Alfred called as soon as they got inside the house, nudging the door closed with his booted foot seeing as Artie was drifting in and out of consciousness in his arms. Another violent shiver rippled through the Brit's already-trembling body as the warm air rushed at him, warming up his frozen limbs.

"I'm coming..." a sleepy voice answered from inside, footsteps pattering as they came closer.

Alfred took Arthur to the living room nearby and gently set him on the couch. Arthur whimpered as soon as Alfred's wonderful presence disappeared, immediately curling up in an effort to protect himself from the world now that Alfred was gone.

"You have to help him, Matt! You've got that first-aid training thingy, right? You can make sure he's alright, right?" Alfred nervously fumbled with his fingers, watching worriedly as Arthur blearily opened his eyes and blinked, gaze unfocused.

"Yes, I can, now stop yelling, it's three in the morning, for maple's sake." The blond sighed, kneeling next to Arthur and immediately noticing the shivers, the unfocused look, and the blood on his arms. He then got up, looking seriously at his brother. "Get him a blanket while I go get my stuff."

The older twin nodded briskly and immediately went for the unlit fireplace, opening one of the wooden cabinets next to it and pulling out a large, comfortable-looking blanket. He hauled it back to Arthur's side, and with gentleness the older teen ignored he had, Alfred draped it over the Brit's shivering form.

"You're gonna be alright now. Mattie's gonna fix you up, you can get a good night's rest, and we'll deal with everything tomorrow. Or should I say, later today." Alfred smiled reassuringly, running a hand through Arthur's frozen blond locks.

Arthur blinked unevenly a couple of times, then slowly shook his head, wincing.

"G-Got work... morning..." he whispered, his voice coming out broken and slightly like a whistle. Dread settled in Alfred's stomach as he realized it was probably an after effect of being strangled. He could only pray that the damage wasn't permanent.

"You're not going anywhere until you recover and we can sort this mess out, y'hear me? I'll check your phone and call your work to tell them you're not coming in." Alfred decided, patting Arthur's head affectionately.

Arthur only blinked at him again, one eye at a time, then slowly nodded.

"Okay, I'm back." Matthew announced as he walked in, a first-aid kit in his right hand and a covered temperature probe in his left. "Open wide, Arthur." He ordered, holding the probe at mouth level.

Alfred gently helped Arthur sit up a bit and watched worriedly as his eyes drooped closed, head lolling slightly as soon as the thermometer was inserted under his tongue.

"He was blinking unevenly, is that normal?" Alfred gulped down nervously, watching as Matthew pulled a flashlight out of the kit, making sure it worked.

"Maybe he hit his head. Let's hope he doesn't have a concussion." Matthew shrugged.

Alfred gave a noncommittal noise and shifted his attention back and forth from Arthur until the thermometer beeped.

He immediately snatched it up and squinted through the semi-darkness to read it. His eyebrows shot up in shock when he read the number, though.

"It... It's reading 34.6 Celsius." He muttered, shaking the thermometer to make sure it wasn't wrong. "Is it broken?"

"No, it merely means his body temperature has dropped too low because he was outside without proper protection. Just some mild hypothermia, nothing big. His body will deal with it if we warm him up." The younger twin explained, taking the probe and discarding the protective plastic film in a plastic bag he pulled out of the kit.

"I'll go get some water boiling for him. He likes tea a lot, so it should comfort him and warm him up." Alfred decided, leaving towards the kitchen.

Matthew only nodded and snapped plastic gloves on.

By the time Alfred came back, Matthew was working on cutting Arthur's pyjama's sleeves off with cloth scissors, probably to access the cuts better, Alfred realized. He also realized that with the dim lighting of the room, he hadn't seen the complete extent of Arthur's injuries yet. He just hoped it wasn't anything too bad.

"Alright, now Arthur, listen. Can you hear me?" Matthew asked, lightly tapping Arthur's cheek.

"Hm..." Arthur mumbled, looking blankly at the younger teen.

"Good. Now I know this might be hard for you, but you're gonna have to tell me exactly what happened so I know where to check for injuries. Take your time if you must, but don't lie."

_"I like it when you tell the truth." _

For Alfred's sake, he couldn't lie.

"Uhh..." he closed his eyes briefly, his cracked, damage voice making a slight whistling sound as he spoke. "Raised my arms to protect myself and he broke a beer bottle on them..." he slurred, gaze trailing to the scabbing cuts on his arms. "Then smashed my head against the table... Here." He mumbled, lightly touching the sore, bruising bump next to his right temple. "Slammed me against the floor, straddled me and..." his breath hitched, and he stopped for a second to push down the impending fear. "Tried to choke me to death..."

"Alright." Matthew nodded, biting his lip. He was only trained in first-aid, so Alfred would have been better off taking Arthur to a hospital. Still, they were here now, so he turned his small flashlight on and hoped the damage wasn't too big. "Look at me." He ordered, pointing the light in Arthur's eyes, watching as the pupils sluggishly shrank to accommodate the light source.

"Is he okay?" Alfred whispered for what felt like the millionth time to Matthew, to which he simply replied with a nod.

"Yes, his brain is responsive enough to adjust to his surroundings, so he shouldn't have a concussion. Still, diagnosing them is pretty hard, so he should go get checked with a doctor. He'll probably be dizzy for the next couple of days, with headaches and such, and I'm guessing he has a bump somewhere on his head." The younger twin trailed his hand through Arthur's hair, looking blindly for the bump. "God, Alfred, I can't see a thing! Turn on the damn lights, will you?"

To which Alfred replied with a swift nod and compliance, which surprised Matthew. Still, he figured that Alfred was too worried about Arthur to complain to him about being an overly sensitive bitch. Because obviously, Alfred hadn't been the one shaken awake at 2 in the morning and been told to be on standby just in case his idiot brother needed help.

The room's occupants winced as the lights were fully turned on, blinding them for a moment. As Matthew worked on finding the bumps, Alfred left to get the tea and a couple of icepacks he figured would be good for Arthur's head.

As he came back and set everything on the table, Matthew shifted just enough to give Alfred a full view of the extent of the damage on Arthur. His breath hitched as he finally noted the lost, unresponsive look in Arthur's dulled eyes, the bruise-like bags that were ever-present on his face, the violent shivering, the blood staining his arms, and _god_, the bruises littering his thin, delicate neck.

Finger shaped prints were enlacing Arthur's throat, heavily concentrated on the areas around his windpipe and jugular. They mottled and circled the entire expanse of his throat, like a morbid necklace that contrasted too much with Arthur's pale skin. Irritated and scabbed over in a couple of places, red crescent-shaped marks dotted his bruised throat where Alfred figured that fingernails had pushed in.

It made him so nauseous, he had to close his eyes and breathe deep a few times before being able to recollect his courage and open his eyes.

Arthur was staring right at him as he opened his eyes again. He flinched when their gazes locked and immediately shut his eyes again, kneeling next to the couch, next to Arthur. So much had been said between them, and not a single word had been uttered.

Alfred wasn't even sure he could find his voice, because his throat was locked with horror.

Matthew disinfected the cuts and gently bandaged them, getting no response from Arthur. Alfred, though, flinched and swallowed to keep the bile down. Everything was being replayed in his head, like how police would recreate a crime to figure out what happened. As the bandages turned light pink, Alfred saw Arthur in his head, eyes wide in desperation and pure, unadulterated terror as his own father tried to hit him over the head with a bottle, as he raised his arms to protect himself.

Matthew finally noted the ice packs on the table, and with an appreciative nod to Alfred (who was too lost in his thoughts to notice), he set them gently against the bump on Arthur's head and the back of his spine. Arthur shivered as more cold invaded his body, and Alfred imagined him looking confused and hurt as large hands grabbed him by the throat and roughly smashed his head against a table. He could almost hear the cry of pain that had most probably escaped Arthur's lips, and he could hear the sound of a body roughly hitting the floor as he was slammed on the ground.

Matt lightly ran a hand over the bruises on Arthur's neck, making the latter shiver and scrunch up in discomfort. Matthew only sighed and shook his head morosely.

Alfred could imagine breath escaping Arthur's body, already struggling with air as more weight was put on his stomach, his own father's hands constricting the life out of him. His mind supplied him with the horrible image of Arthur, lying hurt on his back, begging, _pleading _to be let go of, crying, wondering where it all went wrong, _why _it all went wrong.

He imagined Arthur struggling, trying to get his potential murderer –the very man who gave him his life- off of him, trying to breathe, to live. The raw terror that must have been invading Arthur's heart seemed to be reflected in Alfred's recreation, because he choked a sob, eyes flying open.

He couldn't take it. He couldn't take seeing Arthur so afraid, so fragile, so broken. He had to convince himself that everything would be alright. And he could only do so by opening his eyes and facing reality.

"Are you okay, Al?" Matthew called, looking at him worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired." Alfred lied, quickly wiping an overflowing tear from the corner of his eyes, because if he cried, who would be Arthur's hero?

"Alright. I'm done here, so this is the best I can do. Not sure if anything much can be done about the bruises. From the looks of it, the strangulation was not severe, but did last long, so his vocal cords might... no, _will _be damaged for a while. He'll probably recover, though, if he takes it easy and doesn't speak much for the next few weeks." Matthew sighed, getting up and discarding his bloodstained plastic gloves in the small bag he'd thrown the probe cover in.

"Thank you so much, Mattie." Alfred huffed in relief, getting up and hugging his twin brother tightly. Matthew only smiled wearily and hugged back, eyes clearly betraying his exhaustion.

Next to them, Arthur managed to look slightly jealous even through the haze enveloping his shaken thoughts.

"It's no problem, Alfred. Get some sleep. I'll be upstairs, trying to do the same if you need me." He smiled, pushing Alfred off gently.

One look, and they both knew that no one would be doing so tonight. Too much nightmare fuel in a single night did that to people.

Untangling himself from his brother's arms, Matthew wished a pointless good night to everyone before taking his stuff and leaving.

As soon as Matthew was gone, Alfred knelt and took the mug of lukewarm tea, raising it to Arthur's lips.

"Drink. It's not Earl Grey, your favourite, but it's tea. It'll help your throat, and it'll warm you up. You're still shivering." He whispered, making sure Arthur had well taken the mug in his hands before letting go.

The Brit stared at the tea for a second before raising it to his lips and taking a sip. He then put it on his lap, sighing in relief even though the tea was not hot anymore and tasted like cheap coffee machine tea. Alfred had made it for him, and it mattered a lot to Arthur that he did.

"Why are you doing all this for me...?" he finally asked in a broken voice, not above a whisper. He took another gulp before clarifying. "Why are you helping me...?"

Alfred looked at him, scrutinizing the dead green eyes that were staring at the tea in the mug. Dead green eyes that were never meant to look so dull. Dead green eyes that were supposed to shine and light up his day every time he saw them. Not give him nightmares.

He wanted to change that. He really did want to fuck the world and its stereotypes and haters, only focusing on making Arthur smile. Because Arthur was the one his heart had chosen, and for better or for worse, he was going to trust his heart. But could he trust Arthur to trust his heart as well? Whoever said it was the best course of action? Perhaps some things were better left unsaid.

Arthur sensed his inner conflict and kept quiet, opting to sip his tea calmly. The question, although innocent, was very delicate, and Arthur was dreading the answer.

Did Alfred owe him? He didn't think so. Perhaps he simply felt bad for all those times he'd gotten him into trouble, those countless times he'd gotten Arthur stuck in detention. If so, then that put him on the same level as everyone else, and the only person he could trust not to give him their pity would be Francis. And Gilbert, because he was an untactful ass of a German ("Mein gott, I'm Prussian, not German!" he would have yelled if he were here right now) and made fun of everything.

It didn't matter, though, because Arthur hated pity and everyone who gave it, and chose people who wouldn't give it to him to hang out with.

And if Alfred was only helping him out of pity, then god help him, Arthur would hate him, too. Then again, that was a hard thing to do when you were confronted with someone like Alfred. Alfred just had that natural charisma and just the right amount of attractiveness that made everyone want to hang with him. Everyone including Arthur.

He just didn't want to be the poor boy that needed attention because he never got any.

They both fell into silence for a long time, the distant sounds of cars honking outside being the only noise around them. Arthur shifted his gaze to the barren, snowy streets outside, opting to distance himself. His tea, now cold, rested cradled like a child in his lap, and only because Alfred had made it. And because everything Alfred did, Arthur subconsciously adored.

"Because." Alfred finally spoke up, disturbing their silent truce. "I helped you because... I love you."

And they fell into silence again. The only element that proved Arthur had heard and acknowledged him was the tightening on his cold mug of tea. For Alfred, it was his throat that tightened.

The wait was maddening for him. He could almost taste the bittersweet taste of rejection on his tongue. Arthur refused to meet his eyes during the entire ordeal.

"Is that so...?" the Brit finally croaked out, never shifting his gaze from the window.

"Yes, it is. I love you, and I've loved you for a long while now. You asked why I helped you, so I answered."

"You're lying."

"You didn't lie to me, so I won't lie to you."

"You don't love me."

"Listen to me, Arthur Kirkland. I love you. I do." Alfred ground out, fists clenching. Arthur hadn't even met his gaze, hadn't even given him a chance to prove how serious he was. He just stared out of the window, seeming lost.

"You can't love someone like me." Arthur whispered, trying to push him away. Because he knew that deep inside, he wanted him too, he wanted to love Alfred too. But he couldn't, because that would hurt him, and that would undeniably hurt Alfred. And he didn't want to slow him down just because he was a failure.

"But I do, I can, and I will, if you give me the chance to show you." Alfred whispered back, gently slipping a hand under the blanket and brushing his fingers against Arthur's. Arthur immediately flinched and curled his fingers, escaping Alfred's touch. That way, he stayed close to the presence he enjoyed so much, and yet convinced himself he didn't by evading his touch.

"Don't. I'll only hurt you. You shouldn't love someone like me." Arthur mumbled with a tone of finality, shooting down the rest of his cold tea (because Alfred had made it, and he adored everything Alfred did) and setting the mug on the table before sliding down and facing away from Alfred, burrowing himself in his covers.

"That won't stop me. Nothing will. Not even you." Alfred replied under his breath, setting his glasses on the table next to Arthur's empty mug and crossing his arms on the couch. He looked once more at Arthur's turned back and sighed, closing his eyes.

They didn't sleep that night. But, unbeknownst to each other, they did cry.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

**Before you bitch at me, yes, I do know that they should have gone to a hospital instead. But, as I can say from personal experience, teenagers tend to act by emotion and instinct alone, instead of taking time to rationalize and debate options. So, when the guy he loves is shivering and crying and entirely shattering into pieces right in front of his eyes, Alfred isn't going to be all "Oh yes, I should pick up the phone and call an ambulance, or at least call a hospital and ask for further directions". He's gonna do what his instincts tell him to do, and that is: help Arthur.**

**You know, this story is also written to show how teenage relationships sometimes look perfect to the people in them, but how utterly unhealthy they are in reality. Well, I'm too much of a sap to make my USUK an unhealthy relationship, but things in the romance between them will do pretty dark later on. I won't say how, though. The psychology of the chars in this story is pretty fucked up. Warning C:**

**Some random things to explain about the content:**

**- Cotton lets body heat escape very quickly. This Canadian uses Celsius to measure temperatures. The normal temperature of a human body is around 36.5-37.5 degrees Celsius and anything below 35 degrees is considered hypothermia. Arthur's is not too bad, though. Just external hypothermia. **

**-Traumatically altering the flow of air to the brain can cause headaches, blackouts, severe confusion and panic. So hysteric!Arthur panicking in Alfred's arms? It would've been unrealistic if he didn't. **

**-The redundancy with some elements of the story is intentional, because Artie is still struggling with accepting his feelings. He keeps repeating stuff to himself because his emotions and thoughts are conflicting. **

**So yes, this is pretty much it... Your thoughts/comments/complaints/rants can be sent to me via review, and I will receive every single one of them with love and adoration ;w; Please review~**


	7. Rise

**Author's Notes:**

**I really have to stop going so speechless when I read your comments. I don't think that's possible, though. I'm just so SO happy by everything that I read ;w; I want to thank EVERYONE who reviewed because they brighten my day so~ This includes Apple-Cola, Sobubbles1, Trumpet-Geek, XxTenshIxX97, Brixland, I Am One With Mother Russia, Otaku Kyari, Pureh, FoolishLittleDuck, Mesmerize Bulls, baconis1priority, Waytomuchadoaboutnothing, PunkIggy, MissKitty23, alguien22792, Miss Panopticon, Yuu-chi, bluebird99 and bambooHP. **

**Also, I also want to thank everyone who faved/alerted this story. Too many people did it, so I won't write ALL of their names down, but I did recognize a few of my favourite fanfic authors in there, and I'M SO HONOURED, SOB ;w; Thanks again, everyone!**

**Addressing some general questions brought up by reviews: They are in a high school, which is all that matters. International or not, you can choose as you like. And yes, they are both 17, for the sake of the story, though Alfred's younger by a few months. And patience is the key to all rewards. Remember that their relationship has just started and that many more developments, for the better or the worse, will soon come to pass. That is all.**

**Things written in _bold and italics_ are things Arthur writes on his marker board. You'll see why he needs one as you read.**

**Chapter warnings include: Not much, really. Lots of self-bashing and self-hate. And boy love. But I think that you're cool with that if you're reading this. Enjoy~**

* * *

><p>Arthur woke up to the feel of something soft in his face. A wonderful aroma was in the air, and he took a deep breath, warming his lungs up. Something tickled his nose, finally prompting him to open his eyes.<p>

Sunlight hit his face full-on and he rapidly blinked before realizing that someone's hair was in his face.

Namely, Alfred's hair.

But he couldn't bring himself to pull away. It all seemed so peaceful, so picture perfect to him. One arm under his head to act as a pillow, the opposite hand intertwined with Alfred's left hand. Alfred was leaning his head painfully on his upper left arm as he slept, his right arm extended and draped over Arthur's waist.

For a moment, Arthur wished they'd never have to move.

And then he realized how embarrassing the position would be if Alfred awoke.

So, making sure not to wake the American, he unwillingly untangled their hands and gently bent Alfred's arm so that it was supporting his head better. He then shifted and sat up a bit, enough to notice that Alfred had spent the night (or whatever parts of it he spent sleeping) laying down by his side and sleeping half sprawled on the floor, half on the couch.

Arthur winced, knowing the poor boy would have many neck and back pains once he awoke. Why would he sacrifice his own well-being to stay by Arthur's side?

That's when memories of last night rushed back, and he felt his throat lock up.

_"Oh Alfred..." _Arthur bit his lip and extended his hand to caress the sleeping American's head. He stopped an inch away, though, and silently watched the rise and fall of the other's shoulders before deciding against it and cradling his hand to his chest like a wounded animal.

Thankfully, that was the moment that Matthew came in, holding a platter with food and drinks on it. Arthur immediately looked up, but relaxed when he noticed that it was someone familiar (as familiar as a kid he'd met and who'd taken care of him yesterday could get).

"Good morning. Slept well?" Matthew asked out of courtesy, knowing that the answer was a dull and plain 'no' for both of them. Who in their right mind would be able to enjoy a night of sleep after going through traumatic incidents or cleaning up after said traumatic incidents?

Arthur wondered if the emergency staff in the ER or the ICU ever slept well.

"I brought you and Alfred breakfast. Figured you'd need to get your energy." _'Because you looked pretty damn dead yesterday night.' _Of course that part was left out.

As Matthew set down what Arthur realized were maple syrup and pancakes, he moved to thank the boy, only to find that he couldn't say a single word. Panic surged through him as he grabbed at his throat, unable to make a single sound.

"Oh, it's normal." Matthew quickly reassured him, noticing his plight. "Your vocal cords are damaged, so you won't be able to speak much for the next couple of weeks. It's a common after effect of strangulation, but you should recover."

_'I hope.' _was another thought that was left out.

"Until then, I found this." Matthew smiled, pulling out the erasable marker board he had set the plate or pancakes on and handing him a marker. "You can use it to communicate until your voice comes back."

Immediately putting it to good use, Arthur quickly scribbled down a hasty, but genuine "thank you" on the board, showing it to Matthew with the best smile he could muster, considering his situation. He really hoped his panic-stricken heart wasn't altering his mask.

"It's no problem, really." The younger teen smiled brightly.

There was a small silence, and Matthew was just about to leave when Arthur suddenly wiped his message with his hand and started scribbling something else down. Matthew stayed, raising a curious eyebrow, until Arthur had shown him what was written.

_**"Why are you helping me?" **_

"Why wouldn't I help you?" Matthew blinked incredulously as if it were the most obvious question in the entire world.

Mistaking his incredulity for anger, Arthur quickly shied away and scribbled down another brief message.

_**"I'm sorry." **_

"Why would you be sorry?" Matthew asked again, genuinely confused.

Arthur scanned his eyes nervously, then erased his message, writing another one.

_**"I don't understand. I have never done anything to please you, so why would you help me?" **_

"Oh, Arthur..." Matthew's eyes saddened. "Sometimes, you don't have to have an alibi to care about others, you just do. Not because there is personal gain in it, but because your heart tells you it's the right thing to do."

Arthur furrowed his large eyebrows, confused. Why would a person help someone else when there was nothing to gain from it? Why would anyone care if there was no prize at the end? He always had to please his father with the hopes that he would be loved, but... Maybe he hadn't tried hard enough...?

_**"I don't understand... How may I repay you?" **_

"By getting better. Alfred is hurting because you're not okay, so if you get better, he'll be happier, and his happiness is also mine."

Oh. So once again, it was Arthur's fault. If he hadn't gotten hurt, Alfred wouldn't have been worried and sad, and he wouldn't have made someone as innocent and unconcerned as Matthew sad, and-

"I didn't mean it like that." Matthew sighed, noticing the guilty look in his eyes. "Just... Get better soon."

Arthur looked at him for a while longer, then nodded, erasing his last message. Next to him, Alfred groaned, moving.

"Looks like Al's awakening. I have to go now. Tell him I'm gone to the local ice skating rink, okay?" Matthew smiled, going for the front door as soon as Arthur nodded. "Good day, Arthur."

Arthur only managed a small smile before turning his gaze back to Alfred. Sighing noiselessly, he shook the American with the hopes of rousing him.

Alfred awoke with a cry of surprise, making Arthur jump back lest he be bitten. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he looked up and cracked his neck painfully, whining.

"G'mornin'." He slurred, making small moans of pain as he stretched his back, cracking his spine audibly a few times. Arthur winced and grabbed his marker board.

_**"You didn't have to sleep there, you know." **_

"I didn't want you to feel abandoned..." Alfred muttered, a blush dusting his cheeks. Arthur didn't know whether he should smile or feel offended.

Thankfully, the smell of food caught Alfred's attention before Arthur could decide on what to do with his feelings.

"Sweet! Pancakes!" he grinned, immediately separating the stack into two smaller stacks and pushing Arthur's serving onto a plate that he handed to the Brit enthusiastically. "Mattie makes the best pancakes, you have to taste them!"

Nervously looking at the food, Arthur shook his head.

_**"I don't want to impose on you, nor your brother, nor your parents." **_

"You're not imposing. Mattie never does anything he doesn't want to do anyways, and mom and dad are gone on a weekend-long convention and will only be back Monday after school." Alfred punctuated the sentence by shoving the food into Arthur's hands.

Arthur looked at the buttery, maple-syrup dipped pancakes, his stomach doing flips. Of course he was hungry, but he didn't know whether he could handle food or not. He tried pushing the plate again, but Alfred sighed, getting up and sitting next to him, cutting a piece of pancake and holding it up to his mouth.

"Please, Arthur, remember what nurse Eliza said?"

Oh, right, he was struggling with a physiological problem and had to make efforts to remedy to it. How could he have forgotten?

"Three meals a day, at least 7 hours of sleep a night." Alfred reminded him, prodding at his lips with the syrupy piece of pancake. "Please eat."

Later on, Arthur would deny that it was the worried desperation lacing Alfred's words that prompted him to open his mouth and eat the bite, but for now, he only looked away and opened his lips wide enough for the pancake to fit snugly. As soon as it was in and that the fork was out, though, he snatched the utensil away from Alfred and blushed.

"Alright, alright, I won't feed you, but..." Alfred laughed, affectionately looking at Arthur. "I want you to eat it all."

_"Yes mom." _Arthur would have said if he could speak.

The two ate their breakfast in silence, still lost in their own thoughts. And then, Arthur's thoughts wandered back to yesterday night (or that morning, as a matter of fact), and more importantly, what had been said towards the end.

Alfred loved him.

Arthur didn't want to acknowledge it.

Arthur didn't want to acknowledge that maybe he, too, did love Alfred back.

Because real life didn't work like that. Only stories did. Two random people who have hated each other for years don't just fall in love and ride off into the sunset on a white horse to live happily ever after.

But... Alfred had said he had loved him for a long time now... Perhaps their story wasn't so impossible after all...

But what about him? What about Arthur? Did he love Alfred with the same passion the American held for him? Because if he didn't, he'd only be lying to himself, and to Alfred.

_"Alfred doesn't like it when you lie." _

And it mattered to Arthur. It mattered that his behaviour was irking Alfred, because he didn't want him to drift away. He didn't want them to drift apart.

That's why their love was impossible.

Alfred and Arthur would be happy for a set amount of time, and then one of them would realize that it's just a fling and would leave the other heartbroken. Or worse, the two could stay together forever, and Alfred's destined soulmate would never find him. The poor woman would be left, wandering alone, never to find the person at the end of her red string of fate because _Arthur_, of all people, had stolen him.

It would have been his fault either way. For not being good enough, for not being a nice person.

Suddenly, he didn't feel so hungry anymore.

With a clink, he let his fork drop on his plate, pushing the plate to his lap. He struggled to chew and swallow the bite he had in his mouth and his stomach lurched unpleasantly when he did. He retained the urge to throw up. His stomach felt heavy, his heart like lead, and he felt dirty, gritty, slimy for existing.

Alfred immediately noticed the other's discomfort and turned to face him worriedly.

"Is everything okay, Arthur?"

_"Alfred doesn't like it when you lie." _

And yet he still nodded 'yes'.

Alfred looked at him, making him feel slightly self-conscious, so he turned away. Soft hands suddenly cradled his face, though, gently turning it back to meet Alfred's eyes.

"You don't have to hide anything from me." Alfred smiled gently, running a thumb over Arthur's cheek and causing a shiver to go through his body. "I love you, remember?"

Yes, yes he did remember, in fact. But he wished he didn't. Life would have been so much easier if no one had bothered loving him. Now he actually had to deal with loving someone back, and after years of being underappreciated, he didn't know how he could handle the shock.

Alfred had already told him the three sacred words a dozen times. Why couldn't he say it just once?

Arthur just averted his eyes.

"You have to talk to me, Arthur. You have to communicate so I can help you." Alfred whispered worriedly, every word sending another delicious puff of hot air on Arthur's face. Their faces were so close, their noses almost touching. Arthur yearned to lean over and close the distance, feel Alfred's lips on his. How would they feel? Rough and chapped? Soft and smooth, maybe? Perhaps they were dry... Or perhaps they were perfect.

Perhaps they weren't even destined for Arthur to take.

"How about we go to the police today?" Alfred asked pleasantly, never letting go of Arthur's jaw, never breaking the gaze he had set on the Brit's perfect face.

To that, Arthur only shook his head and pushed Alfred's hands away. The hurt was clear in his eyes, but Arthur figured that it was better to hurt now than later.

"Arthur?" Alfred questioned gently, watching as Arthur scribbled on his board.

_**"Don't want to." **_

"You have to! Your dad just tried to kill you, you can't let him get away with that!" Alfred protested.

_**"Don't have proof." **_

"And those bruises on your neck?" Alfred put a hand softly to Arthur's throat, making the latter jump and pull the cover up to his nose fearfully. "They're proof, Arthur..."

_**"Anyone could have done it, especially that you and Matthew touched me already." **_

"We could get him arrested for years and years of verbal and psychological abuse." Alfred gently intertwined his fingers with Arthur's, staring pleadingly into his eyes.

_**"Still no proof." **_

Alfred stared hopelessly at him before sighing and nodding.

"I see." Clearly, Arthur was avoiding the issue with poorly-constructed arguments, but Alfred wasn't about to bring that up right now. They'd have to take things one step at a time. Starting with Arthur's extremely low self-esteem. "Look at me, Arthur."

Arthur slowly looked up, confusion clear in his exhausted gaze.

"Don't be afraid of the world because the world's not afraid of you. It will hurt you without a second thought, and you have to be ready for that. You have to be ready to take steps to ensure that it'll never hurt you again." Arthur looked away, ashamed, but Alfred immediately snapped his head back up. Fear sprung in Arthur's eyes, making guilt churn in Alfred's stomach. "Sorry."

Arthur looked down.

"Don't be ashamed of yourself, Arthur. You're beautiful the way you are, and I don't want you to think otherwise. You shouldn't listen to what other people say about you, and you should never change, because you can't get any better than this. I fell in love with the Arthur in front of me right now, and if you changed, you'd be breaking my heart."

_"That is inevitable. Whether you change or not, you will undoubtedly break his heart in the end. Besides, he only loves the Arthur he sees. Does he really know you? He knows what you like and what your habits are. He doesn't know what kind of a monster you truly are, deep inside. How disgusting and filthy and inhuman and unworthy you are in reality. Let your fake identity reject him. He can't get close enough to see beneath your layers and learn how pathetic you are."_

Arthur shivered. He hated it when the ugly voice in his head pushed him down like that. The worst part was that... these were his own thoughts echoing in his head. He was a monster. There was no denying it. Alfred had fallen in love with a beast wearing an angel's skin._  
><em>

"Please don't think you're any less of a person than I am, Arthur. And don't push yourself too much to be better, because you don't need to. You're already perfect." Alfred tried a comforting smile. Arthur simply grabbed his marker board and shakily put the marker up to write.

_**"I'm not perfect. Dad doesn't love me, which means there is something wrong with me." **_He made sure Alfred read it before erasing and writing something new. _**"I have to work harder so he can accept me. I just want him to love me." **_

"Oh, Arthur, you can't work yourself much harder than this unless you want to burn out." Alfred sighed. "I know it might be hard for you to understand, but... Someone who tried to kill you will never love you."

"_Liar!" _Arthur wanted to scream, but no sounds came. Tears rushed up to his eyes, and he desperately tried to blink them away.

_**"LIAR!" **_

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm sorry." Alfred whispered, his heart wrenching at the sight of Arthur, so distraught and panicked, and desperately trying to cling to the last shreds of his comforting lies.

Arthur didn't reply, and wouldn't have, even if he could. Because he knew Alfred was right. He'd known it all along, ever since his father started verbally abusing him on daily occurrences. But he didn't want his mask to break. He didn't want to admit to himself that everything he'd known up to now was a lie. That he'd been living a lie. A lie he created himself.

_"Alfred doesn't like it when you lie." _

Well, damn Alfred and his knack for ruining every wall Arthur had built up around him all these years. How come this simple kid had managed to break through all his defences and had claimed his heart? It wasn't fair to lose (or had he won?) so quickly, not after he'd spent so long protecting himself (or was he slowly killing himself?).

Slowly, the realization sunk in.

He'd been chasing a mirage all this time to hide from the truth. His father would not love him now if he hadn't loved him before. And he would kill himself if he kept trying.

"Please come back, Arthur." Alfred whispered. "Please come back. I don't want you to die for a lost cause, I want you to stay, to open your eyes, see how beautiful life is when you're not chasing a single unreachable goal. I don't want you to focus on the impossible because it's killing you, you're killing yourself, and I want you to look around for every single little thing you've missed all this time. I've always been here, Arthur, and I haven't realized up to now how much I want you, how much I need you, how much I lo-"

Alfred suddenly stopped as delicate fingers touched his bottom lip. Face frozen, he looked down to see Arthur thoughtfully touching his lips, wondering how nature had allowed such a beautiful man to exist. How nature had allowed a horrible person like himself to deserve a perfect man like Alfred. Why Alfred had chosen Arthur to deserve him.

_"Not because there is personal gain in it, but because your heart tells you it's the right thing to do." _

Matthew had flat-out said it. Alfred was implying it. Could it be that... it had been possible for Arthur to be happy without having to exchange anything for his happiness all this time?

Oh god.

What kind of a hole had be lived in all this time? What had he missed all his life?

"Arthur...?"

His heart wanted him. His body wanted him. His mind was still bumbling with thoughts, but one of them stood out like white chalk on a clean blackboard.

_"Go be happy, Arthur. Go live your life to its fullest. Go enjoy what you've missed and don't ever look back." _

Arthur had never loved the little bipolar voice in his head as much as he did now.

Slowly, his fingers left Alfred's lips, and he leaned in. He knew it was wrong, that he was probably ruining someone else's chances with Alfred, that he was surely going to turn Alfred's life upside down, that his life would surely be turned upside down (for the better or for the worse?), not to mention that they were two boys, but _god_, his heart was telling him to go for it. No regrets.

For a moment, Arthur flipped society the middle finger, and their lips met.

As soon as they kissed, though, Arthur parted, leaving lingering heat in both their bodies. Pleasant shock was rippling through Alfred, who slowly grinned, but Arthur just looked down, like a child caught eating cookies before dinner.

He couldn't do this. He'd enjoyed it. He just wanted to protect Alfred. He loved him. He didn't want to drag him down. His heart knew he wouldn't be able to.

"That was... amazing." Alfred smiled, petting Arthur's cheek enthusiastically.

_**"It didn't last a second." **_

"Doesn't matter. I loved it. I love you." Alfred leaned in again for another kiss, but met with resistance under the guise of Arthur's hand.

_**"I'm sorry, Alfred. I can't love you." **_

"But you do."

_**"I don't want to." **_

"Do you hate me?"

_**"I don't. I just can't love you." **_

"Why not?"

_**"You can get better than me." **_

"You're the only one I want."

_**"You're a stubborn git." **_

To this, Alfred grinned his infamous million-watt grin and ruffled Arthur's hair affectionately.

"It's in my nature. Love me now?"

_**"I still can't love you." **_

"Why's that?"

_**"I've never loved and never been loved before. I'll only end up hurting you." **_

"Then let me be your first and your only. I love you too much to let you go, so you're not getting rid of me no matter what you do." Alfred smiled, taking Arthur's hand and playing with his fingers lovingly.

_**"Alfred, you don't understa" **_

Alfred put his hand on the marker board before Arthur could finish writing, prompting the older teen to look up, confused and slightly hurt. Hadn't Alfred asked him to communicate? Was he doing it wrong? Had he angered him?

"There isn't much to understand. I love you, you love me." Alfred smiled reassuringly, kindly gazing into Arthur's eyes. "I'll show you what real love is. I'll kiss your eyelids when you sleep, I'll make you breakfast, I'll help you with math, I'll hold you when you're scared, I'll carry you when you're tired, I'll laugh when you laugh, cry when you cry and I'll never leave your side. And you'll just have to love me back."

_**"That's the problem, Alfred." **_Arthur's gaze saddened, and he erased his message with a trembling hand. _**"I don't know how to love you." **_

There was a small silence as Alfred read Arthur's message, the board shaking slightly with Arthur's hand. Then, Alfred gently took the board and marker away, setting them down, and slipped Arthur's hands in his own. With gentleness neither knew he had, Alfred leaned forward, pressing his nose against Arthur's.

"I'll just have to teach you, then."

Their lips met again, and sparks exploded. It was a small kiss, just lips, but Arthur soon fell into it, responding by stealing feather-light kisses on Alfred's lips. Their hands never left each other.

Alfred felt like the happiest man on Earth. Their kisses were chaste and insecure (on Arthur's part), but they were conveying a different message. One that Arthur wasn't able to say with words and that wouldn't mean a thing on the marker board.

This was Arthur's way of saying _"I love you."_

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><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

**Dat misplaced USUK. Unf :D**

**About Arthur: he won't be speaking for a while now because of his vocal cords. Usually, recovering from strangulation takes a very long while, but hell, this is fan fiction, so I'm gonna shorten it to a couple of weeks. With no permanent damage. Because I'm a sap and would kill myself before making Artie a permanent mute. **

**Also, like I told someone in their review reply, and extremely eloquently at that, too, Arthur has a huge inferiority complex, drizzled with physical trauma, sprinkled with psychological abuse and neglect and with a big fat case of low self-esteem on top. And oh, guess what, you guys. The people who read the story completely on the kink meme will be able to tell you that he'll become dependent on *INSERT WORD HERE C:* later on. Poor Arthur's not gonna have it easy. Neither will Alfred, actually. Their relationship's gonna have a LOT of ups and downs. At some point, a very BIG down. But I won't say more, lest I spoil it for those who are reading this for the first time C:**

**Also, kink meme readers, you'll be able to tell that I added a couple of passages that weren't there before. I deemed it necessary to stress how Arthur's psychologically responding to the current events. Remember that this has just begun. Remember that there will be much more fluctuation later on. The story still has about half a dozen chapters left.  
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**Uhm yeah, that's pretty much it. All comments welcome~ Please review C:**


	8. Alone

**Author's Notes:**

**/EDIT:/ I screamed when I got a review saying how FFN fucked up and deleted chapters 8 and 9. And then, after I was done screaming my throat out, I re-uploaded them. Hopefully, they work now :C  
><strong>

**You guys are beautiful. All of you. And I friggin' love you all. Every single one of you. Especially the people whom I can name because they review. And everyone who favourites/alerts, but there are so many, I don't feel like counting D: But the reviewers are just wonderful. Big thanks to Brixland, Kyuu Mikorina, prussiaa, Mew Bubblegum, ShadowEntity, eyebox, it's-an-Alice-thing, FoolishLittleDuck, RukiaoftheBloodMoon, I Am One With Mother Russia, SOSVampire, Apple-Cola, SamuraiSal1, irene n valley, bluebird99, Waytomuchadoaboutnothing, Al F Jones, AFreezingFlame and Pureh for their wonderfully encouraging reviews!**

**(And, ummm... if I ever forget to write your name even though you've reviewed, or anything... Please tell me so I can go throw myself off a building in shame ._.)  
><strong>

**Also, like I said last chapter, give this story some time before you decide about it. Progression is a key point to this story, and I will tell you now that there will be many strains and ups and downs as the plot goes on. So, uhh... give it a try? ^^;**

**Sooo... warnings for chapter 8... Warning for long, obligatory filler-chapter, I guess xD And uhh... more of that aforementioned OOC-ness ;w; Enjoy?  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Arthur spent the day zooming in and out of consciousness. Alfred didn't really mind it, and actually encouraged it, since they both knew that Arthur would be needing a lot of rest now if he wanted to be back on his feet soon.<p>

He'd gone right back to sleep after he and Alfred had finally cleared the issues around them, and the younger teen had brought his schoolbag to the living room. He'd done some homework, played a bit on his Xbox, then had left Arthur's side only to make lunch.

By the time he came back with two plates of rice and chicken, Arthur had opened his eyes, blinking wearily without finding the strength to push himself up.

"What a coincidence, I was just about to wake you for lunch." Alfred chuckled, putting the plates down on the table and helping Arthur sit up. Arthur winced but immediately grabbed his precious marker board as soon as he was sitting upright.

_**"The smell woke me up because I was hungry." **_

"Well then, dig in! Especially brought in from the Williams-Jones kitchen to serve his highness!" Alfred laughed, gently pushing Arthur's abdomen to make place for himself on the couch.

_**"Git." **_

What he didn't say was that he really appreciated both the meal and the fact that he hadn't left his side unnecessarily since morning.

He also wondered if it were the ingredients or the fact that this was Alfred's cooking that made the dish taste better than anything Arthur had eaten before.

The two ate in silence, watching the snow sprinkle outside. It was a bright, peaceful Saturday, and for a moment, Arthur fooled himself into thinking that life was perfect.

But as he moved, a burning sensation on his arms reminded him that _no, life is not perfect. At least, not yet. _

The two finished lunch together and Alfred took it upon himself to take the dishes back and wash them. Once alone, Arthur started to think of what he'd have to do after recovering. He had the tendency to panic when he didn't have anything to do. Unsurprising, considering he'd had nothing but work piled over him for the last couple of months.

He had to continue the plans for the winter dance. He had to finish up on the club budgets (should he cut the football team's budget after all? It might disappoint Alfred...). He had to get confirmation from the catering service for the dance. He had to finish the homework he didn't do yesterday night.

He had to sleep and eat right so he could recover. He had to face his father. He had to go tell the police someday. He had to grow out of his insecurities. He had to learn to appreciate himself the way Alfred appreciated him.

Oh dear. Arthur wasn't sure if he could take up so many challenges. His brain immediately started buzzing again, trying to sort everything out. If he could have groaned in desperation, Arthur would have in a heartbeat.

"Hey. Penny for your thoughts?" Alfred called as he stepped back into the living room and sat down next to Arthur.

_**"I have so many things to do, it's not even funny." **_

"Take it easy, cowboy. You've just started recovering. I think you should get some more rest, and then we'll see about work." Alfred patted him affectionately on the head, getting his hand batted away in irritation as a result.

_**"I'll go crazy if I don't find something to do." **_

"I can help you if all you wanna do is entertain your mind." Alfred hummed in glee, leaning in to steal a kiss. Arthur rolled his eyes and put a hand in front of his face. He still wasn't entirely comfortable with loving Alfred and felt extremely awkward when Alfred loved him back despite his lack of faith in their relationship. Still, his heart was quick to warm up to Alfred's natural charisma, and he found himself smiling lightly despite Alfred's disappointed face.

_**"I'm sorry, I meant real, constructive work." **_

"Man, you're such a spoilsport." Alfred grumbled, crossing his arms. A flash of fear jolted through Arthur's eyes as he read the irritation on Alfred's face.

Oh no. He hadn't wanted to upset him... Tentatively, he reached out and touched Alfred's shoulder, heart thumping madly.

Alfred turned around and noticed the distressed look in his boyfriend's eyes. Hero mode took over immediately, and he swiftly grabbed Arthur's hand.

"Artie? Is everything okay? Are you hurting somewhere?"

Arthur blinked at him, finding all remainders of that previous annoyance gone, and shook his head, pulling his hand away.

"Alright. If you wanna talk, though..."

_**"I know. Thank you." **_

"How about I give you some of my homework to do? Would that satisfy your craving for work?" Alfred chuckled.

_**"You're a lazy git of an American." **_

"You love me, though."

There was a pause, Arthur's fingers hovering over the empty marker board, as if hesitating on what to write.

_**"Can't say I don't." **_

That seemed to be enough for Alfred, who got up and grinned.

"I'll go get that homework for you."

And Arthur rolled his eyes, as if to say _"Yeah. You do that"_.

The rest of the afternoon passed by quickly enough. After having done around 3 pages of Alfred's homework, Arthur felt his eyelids drooping and yawned. Alfred was there in a second, taking the papers and pencils away from him and easing him down into a comfortable sleeping position.

Arthur felt like hitting him and complaining that he's not some invalid in need of help...

But he wouldn't lie to himself and convince himself that he didn't like the special attention.

Besides, he couldn't speak.

But even if he could, he wouldn't. It felt _really _good to finally have someone caring about him.

So instead, he tried to hide his blush by burying himself in his covers and was asleep in the time it took for Alfred to bend down and press a soft kiss to his forehead.

It was dark outside when Arthur woke up to the smell of food again, courtesy of his rumbling stomach. It seemed to have taken a liking to Arthur's new '3 meals a day' policy.

Rubbing his eyes, he pushed himself up, immediately spotting Alfred on the floor, cross-legged and killing alien-looking creatures on his TV screen. The intense look of concentration (eyes focused and tongue sticking out) on his face made him look all that much funnier. Arthur couldn't help but chuckle noiselessly at that.

Alfred suddenly huffed and growled in frustration, a muffled scream tearing out of his throat as his screen went red. Swears ran under his breath as he tossed the controller away and got up to roughly turn the Xbox off. Turning around, he came face to face with the sight of Arthur, all flushed and smiling, chuckling at his antics.

"Hey, babe! Glad you woke up!" Alfred immediately switched moods, skipping over and attempting to kiss Arthur. Arthur moved his head away, though, so it only ended up as a sweet kiss to the cheek. "Mattie's making dinner, so we should be able to eat soon."

Arthur nodded cheerily, his boyfriend's -_ oh god, he's your boyfriend now, you're gonna have to take care of him like he takes care of you, you're gonna have to work harder to please him, you're gonna have to push yourself further to make him love you, Arthur _- insatiable appetite always having been a point he'd joked about (even before they'd met formally. It was no secret to the entire school that once, Alfred F Jones had finished the leftovers from the day's lunch at the cafeteria. All of them).

"Instead of just fantasizing about dinner, why don't you come and set the table, Alfred?" Matthew's soft voice called from inside the kitchen.

"Alright, I'll go set the table and I'll be right back with your food." Alfred smiled, straightening and turning towards the kitchen. He was about to step away when Arthur gripped his sleeve, freezing him in place.

Alfred looked down curiously, eyebrows shooting up when Arthur shook his head negatively, pushing the covers off of him.

"H-Hey, where do you think you're going?" Alfred put a hand on his hip disapprovingly as he watched Arthur swing his legs over the edge of the sofa.

Arthur rolled his eyes and briefly grabbed his marker board to write a very simply, but very expressive message.

_**"Eat." **_

_"With you." _was unsaid.

"You can't get off the couch, you're still sick!"

The look Alfred got in response practically screamed 'just watch me'. Without wasting another moment, Arthur grabbed Alfred's arm with both hands and pulled himself up.

The joy of feeling his familiar weight being set on his legs again made his heart skip a beat. Unused to the motion after having endured physical trauma, Arthur's knees gave in a second after he got up. He never hit the ground, though, because Alfred had his arms around his waist in a second, supporting him as he worked on finding his footing again.

Arthur nodded to him as a meek thanks, then tested his legs again. When he felt he was steady enough, he untangled himself from Alfred's arms and grabbed his precious marker board and marker off the table.

Alfred's hand slowly slid from his waist and caught Arthur's hand as he started leaving. Arthur turned around and looked curiously at Alfred, who only checked for any abnormalities in his posture before smiling back.

Words all but forgotten, the two silently made their way into the kitchen, hand in hand.

And Alfred must have spoken to Matthew about his crush beforehand because the younger twin didn't look surprised when the two came in with their fingers linked together.

"Nice to see you're fit to walk, Arthur. Please set the table so we can eat, you two." Matthew stirred what Arthur realized was beef and vegetable stew on the stove.

Arthur nodded enthusiastically, eager to help. At least Matthew wasn't treating him like an invalid.

Not that Alfred did, considering he all but dumped the three bowls into his boyfriend's arms before piling it with utensils and cups.

Arthur shot him a dirty look, but proceeded to the adjacent dining room nonetheless.

The cutlery was set without much ado, and before long, they were all around the table, sipping their stews. Except Alfred. Alfred just swallowed it whole, complained about how it burned his throat, then demanded seconds.

Somewhere between Alfred's fourth and fifth serving, though, conversation came up.

"So what are you going to do now, Arthur?" Matthew asked, calmly toying with a carrot that was floating in the thick brown liquid.

And the bite that Arthur swallowed after that felt strangely heavy in his stomach.

Because he didn't know.

He was lost now, at the mercy of the world, and he himself wasn't entirely sure what his next course of action would be. To heal, yes, but _how _?

"That's an easy question, Mattie." Alfred piped up, casually sipping his stew right out of the bowl ('what appalling manners', Arthur would surely have commented if he could speak). "Artie's gonna live with us."

"I don't mind it, Alfred, but are you sure mom and dad won't?" Matthew asked, still as calm as ever. "And Arthur's father. We cannot leave this issue unresolved." Arthur shivered despite knowing it was the unbridled truth. "And Arthur has to get checked by a doctor. I did what I could, but I could have misdiagnosed or overlooked something." He sighed and looked pointedly at Alfred. "Arthur is going to heal, but he's gonna need help from superior parties. People higher in the food chain than a high school student and his family. Authorities."

Dread settled in his stomach like a block of lead. Suddenly, Arthur's appetite had all but flown out of the window.

Pushing his chair, Arthur bowed his head lightly in thanks. Not meeting neither Matthew's nor Alfred's eyes, he grabbed his bowl and spoon and went back to the kitchen to wash them.

When had he gotten so many people involved in a worthless case such as his? Matthew, sweet innocent Matthew whom he barely even knew. And their parents, who had never even heard of him before. And Alfred. Oh god, Alfred. The boy who would do anything to see him smile, who would travel to the depths of hell and back to help him heal, and whom his heart had chosen.

He never wanted to get so many people linked with his fate.

Because it was his fate, and in his mind, he was destined to suffer through it alone.

"_You don't have to be alone. Alfred loves you and will help you. You've got a vast array of resources at your fingertips. Use them, because you are entitled to happiness as much as everyone else on this planet is. You're not alone, Arthur. You never were." _

The little voice in Arthur's head had never before made him want to scream and cry at the same time as much as he wanted to right then.

Putting the clean dishes on the drying rack, Arthur wiped his hands on the towel and retreated back into the living room. He had to face his fears someday, but for now, he just wanted to feel the security of something he knew around him.

Hearing Arthur walk back, Alfred made a move to get up and follow him, but a gentle hand on the back of his palm stopped him. Alfred looked across the table, gaze locking with his twin's near-identical one. No words were said, but Alfred understood.

Arthur needed to sort his life right now and choose the path he wanted to follow. That was a choice he had to make alone.

And yet, he wasn't alone, and both Arthur and Alfred knew it. Despite the walls separating them, their hearts were connected.

They never again would have to be alone.

Alfred proved that when later on, he came into the living room, holding a fancy china cup filled with brown tea on a saucer. Arthur looked up blearily, having been engrossed in the book he was reading, and cocked his head curiously when Alfred held the tea out to him.

Quickly figuring that Alfred had made him some kind of commercial tea, Arthur smiled gently and accepted the china cup. He never really was a fan of those overly-priced bagged lemon-and-ginger mint teas they sold in packs of 50, but hey, tea was tea, and beggars couldn't be choosers.

As he took his first sip, though, he realized that the tea in his cup was Earl Grey. And not just packed Earl Grey, but _real _tea, with boiled tea leaves. Even if Alfred had boiled the leaves for too long, Arthur found himself reminiscing the old days, where he would sit with his mother in their garden in London, they would chat and have tea and biscuits and scones and cakes, his brothers would run and play around them, they would laugh and oh-

-Oh... He missed them. He missed those lovely days, and he really wished he could go back so he could advise his younger self not to take those brighter times for granted.

Arthur spent the rest of the night cuddled in Alfred's arms as the younger teen whispered soothing words into his ears.

He never took a second sip of his tea because the tears that came with his first wouldn't stop.

And when they finally did, he had already fallen asleep in Alfred's arms.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

**Arthur recognizes he loves Alfred, too, but that doesn't mean he's comfortable with showing it. (Cause he's an insecure tsundere of a teenage Brit, and doesn't know the true power of USUK). Because he doesn't know if he's doing it right and doesn't want to do things that'll make him seem too desperate. He has grown up with the concept of reciprocity in his mind, so for him, if Alfred does something nice for him, he has to do something in return. And he doesn't know what, so he just feels really awkward accepting stuff from Alfred. **

**Did you see what I did with the tea? It's an analogy C: With what? You figure it out. Whoever can tell me what the tea is an analogy with will get a billion virtual cookies. Does anyone have a virtual allergy to nuts? C: (Oh, and you sneaky kink meme readers already know, so... let's see if you remember xD).**

**Wheee fillers. I promise it'll pick up again next chapter :C And, umm... it'll get intense ;w; Sooo... please review to tell me how this chapter sucked and how you hope the next chapter is better, which it is because there's ACTION and it's kinda morbid actually so it might make some people uncomfortable but still, it's better than this one.**

**tl;dr PLEASE REVIEW, MY LOVELIES :D**


	9. Together

**Author's Notes:**

**/EDIT:/ So yeah, reupload, along with chapter 8. FFN, you're a bitch. Stop deleting my chapters just cause you be hatin' ;_ ;  
><strong>

**Unrelated, but... I just got back from watching the new Sherlock Holmes movie. I think I'm still in some kind of post-amazement state of vegetation. Like... dhfuehrierjgeo. I have to go see it again ._. **

**Back on topic. Your reviews make me ridiculously happy. Can't live without you guys, really ^^ Huge thanks to Pychopathic Robot 9, animefangirl55, Kyuu Mikorina Kyuu-chan, SamuraiSal1, SOSVampire, SkyFox345, Hanyoustripes, Brixland, Mew Bubblegum, Here's Your Cheese Omelette, Cherrychan88, FoolishLittleDuck, Waytomuchadoaboutnothing, Apple-Cola, Lady Skorpio, Canada Cowboy, Pureh, bambooHP and ShadowEntity for the fantasic reviews and comments. Love you all.**

**Also, to anonymous questions:**

**- Yes, it's a guaranteed happy ending. Cause I'm a sap ^^**

**- An analogy is basically a comparison.  
><strong>

**- The analogy with the tea: The tea was supposed to represent Arthur's old life, as symbolized by the flashback of his childhood that he got with his first sip. The fact that he put it down and refused to touch it again, instead cuddling with Alfred, symbolizes that he's moved on and has decided to find his future within Alfred. Lots of cookies have been given out to everyone who tried and got it right C: **

**Anyways. Warnings for this chapter are a bit heavier. Lots of swearing, violent imagery, psychological abuse and yeah. Morbidness in general. Beware and enjoy if you can C':**

* * *

><p>"You smell." Was the first thing that Arthur heard in the morning. A blush rose to his cheeks and he quickly downed the tea Alfred had made for him (cheap mint tea because Alfred had sent Matthew to buy only a single serving of Earl Grey leaves yesterday) to cover it up.<p>

_**"How is it my fault?" **_Arthur huffed, crossing his arms over himself self-consciously. True to Alfred's word, he did smell. Normal, considering he had been wearing the same dirty pyjamas for 2 days now and hadn't showered once in between.

"It's not. Just sayin'." Alfred shrugged, sipping some coffee.

They sat in silence for a second before Alfred reached over and poked Arthur's cheek.

"We should go get your stuff from your apartment today."

Arthur's eyes widened in confusion (and horror, who wouldn't be terrified of returning to their attempted site of death?), but before he could write something down, Alfred continued.

"We should go back and pack all your stuff. You're living with us now, so we should get you moved out of that hellhole as soon as possible." He decided brightly, a bit too brightly.

_**"You haven't even asked your parents." **_

"I'll call them after we come back. They're cool folks, they'll let you stay for sure." Alfred grinned, even if Arthur looked undecided.

Then again, he wasn't in a hurry to go back to living with his dad and he didn't want to have to share clothes with Alfred (not that he would mind it, he subconsciously admitted). Perhaps it was for the best.

He didn't even realize he'd nodded until Alfred pulled him up and kissed him. Arthur squirmed in mild discomfort and pulled away from his boyfriend (to said boyfriend's major disappointment), grabbing his marker board from the table.

_**"I want confirmation from your parents first. It wouldn't do to impose." **_he sighed, looking pointedly at Alfred.

Alfred just kept looking at him with watery eyes, still a bit hurt by Arthur's rejection.

Arthur rolled his eyes and grabbed his collar, pulling him down into a quick, bashful kiss. When he let go, he averted his eyes and turned his attention to the marker board.

_**"And stop looking so dejected. You're making me feel bad." **_

Alfred just grinned in triumph and pecked him back before dragging him to the living room again.

Once there, they both fell down on the (_their_, Arthur's brain corrected him) couch, making themselves comfortable before Alfred grabbed the phone. He dialed a long number and put the phone on speaker as the dial tone rang.

Arthur's heart skipped a beat when there was a click on the other side.

"Hello?"

The feminine voice on the other line sounded tired and annoyed, which made Arthur's blood run cold. If this was a bad time, they could annoy Alfred's parents. And they'd resent Arthur, because technically, it was because of Arthur that the phone call was being made.

Nonetheless, Alfred beamed.

"MOMMY!"

"Alfred, honey!" and the voice did a complete flip, going from low and annoyed to high and cheery. "How are you? Why haven't you called us up to now?"

"Sorry, mom, been busy." Alfred chuckled.

"It's alright. Tell me, Alfred, how have things been going? Is Matthew okay? Why did you call us? Not that we mind, do we, honey?" there was another gruff voice acquiescing from the other line, which, Arthur guessed, belonged to Alfred's dad.

"Everything's fine, mom. Got some homework to keep me occupied, lots of high school drama to live with..." Arthur tightened his grip painfully on Alfred's hand, because he most certainly did not enjoy having his problems compared with petty high school drama.

_"There you go again, wanting attention and trying to over-dramatize your petty problems. Deal with them instead of relying on others." _

Arthur shook his head to clear the dark thoughts and briefly wondered if the voice in his head could have a bipolarity disorder.

Turning his attention back to Alfred, he found the younger boy's face alit with joy as he made small talk with his mother. Jealousy panged at Arthur's heart because he remembered that his mom wasn't there to lecture him about vegetables, and that his dad wouldn't bother grunting short, but affectionate replies to whatever his wife said over the phone.

His grip slackened hopelessly on Alfred's hand.

Noticing the sudden loss of pressure, Alfred quickly turned around and lovingly bumped his nose into Arthur's, making the older teen turn his head away in embarrassment.

"Actually, mom, I did call you for a specific reason." Alfred's voice finally pitched into that low, serious voice that Arthur decided did not fit Alfred's bubbly personality at all (and that he had affectionately dubbed 'Constipated-Alfred-Voice').

"You can tell me anything, honey." Alfred's mom suddenly dropped into the same pitch as her son, blowing Arthur's mind. Was the Constipated-Voice a trait of the Jones family or something?

"You remember Arthur?"

There was a silence on the other line, then mumbling, and finally, a gasp.

"Oh, yes, Arthur. Kirkland, right? The boy in your class? The one you've been dying to ask out since 10th grade?"

"MOM!" Alfred hissed, an embarrassed blush crawling up his cheeks as he looked at Arthur from the corner of his eye. Arthur just blinked incredulously at him, too shocked to even blush.

"Yes, honey, I remember Arthur. Why? Did something good happen?" she was hinting at something with that sentence, and everyone knew what it was.

"Yes and no. Actually, Arthur's right next to me right now." Alfred announced.

"Oh." Awkward silence. "H-Hello there, Arthur. I'm Alfred's mom. Nice to meet you."

Arthur quickly grabbed his precious marker board and scribbled a reply.

"He says 'likewise', mom." Alfred read out loud for him, smiling. "Arthur's my boyfriend now, you know. We've been together for almost two days, now." He grinned giddily, earning him a playful smack on the arm, courtesy of Arthur.

"Congratulations, boys, I really do wish you all the best." Alfred's mom giggled. "Did you hear that, honey? Alfred is finally dating that Arthur boy!" she announced to her husband. There was the distinct noise of a phone being passed over, and a gruff voice announced its presence.

"I'm happy for you, Alfred, and you too, Arthur. Now, be careful. Not everyone will understand you, so you will be treated a bit differently. Whatever happens, though, don't listen to what anyone says because you two are perfectly normal. If anyone ever bothers you, don't be shy to tell me, and I'll sue them for harassment." The old, but joyful voice lectured.

"Honey, don't depress them!" Alfred's mom's voice came from the other line. "Gimme that phone." There was the sound of struggling as the phone was passed from hand to hand, and the teens chuckled.

"Sorry, Alfred, honey, you know your dad, he's just trying to-"

Shuffling.

"And don't forget, boys. Use protection. The condoms are under the sink in the second story bath-"

"JAMES!" Alfred's mom gasped, ripping the phone away from her husband and scolding him nervously.

That couldn't match up to how embarrassed Alfred looked with his face hidden in his knees. Arthur decided that this was definitely a point to tease Alfred on later.

"Alright, I'm sorry, honey, I'm back. So. What did you want to tell me?"

"Actually, mom, this is pretty serious. It has to do with Arthur."

"I'm all ears." Constipated-Mrs-Jones-Voice replied from the other line.

The teens looked at each other and nodded, deciding that they would cut to the chase. No use sugar-coating their issue. Open wounds healed better after having peroxide rubbed on them.

"You see, I recently learned that Artie's father is verbally abusive and very early Saturday morning, things got dangerous and he tried to kill Artie. I went to pick him up and he's been living here ever since. I wanted to ask-"

"Oh my god, James, did you hear that?" the gentle voice at the other line gasped, cutting Alfred off. "Get the laptop, buy the tickets for the train leaving soonest, we have to go back!"

"Mom-"

"Don't worry, honey, sit tight, everything's okay now, we're coming to help you."

"Mom, it's-"

"Arthur, are you there? I don't know you, but Alfred has constantly babbled on about you. It's okay, we're here to help now."

"MOM, JUST LISTEN TO ME." Alfred yelled, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

The shuffling on the other end suddenly stopped, and breaths were held while waiting for Alfred to continue.

"Arthur's okay." He started again. "Mattie patched him up. His vocal cords are damaged from the strangulation, but that's it."

"James, hurry up with those tickets!"

"Mom, please!" Alfred huffed, squeezing Arthur's hand comfortingly. "Don't come back. Finish your convention or conference or whatever the hell it is you're doing. We're okay here."

"Honey, you can't do this alone, we have to warn authorities about this and-"

"I know, mom. Arthur is building up the courage to go tell the police." He leaned over and pecked Arthur's cheek affectionately, causing the older teen to look slightly guilty. "But until then, he's staying over."

"That's good, just stay put-"

"I wanted to ask if he could stay with us until everything got sorted out." Alfred finally finished.

There was whispering on the other side as Alfred's parents discussed the issue, making a ball of nervousness knot Arthur's throat. If Alfred's parents said no, he didn't know where he could go. Alfred was all he had right now.

"Alright." A guarded voice replied from the other side. "But stay safe. Don't leave the house unnecessarily. I'm trusting you here, Alfred, so please don't do anything stupid."

The teens looked at each other quizzically. They were planning to go move Arthur out of his father's apartment. Did that count as stupid?

Alfred quickly flipped through the English-to-Alfred dictionary in his head and didn't find 'helping your boyfriend despite the heavy risks' in the definition of stupid. So he shook his head and smiled.

"We won't, mom."

"Promise me?"

"We promise."

"Good. Stay safe, rest plenty, and don't forget the police. If you're too nervous going alone, just stay put until we come back and it's the first thing we'll do."

"Thanks, mom." Alfred smiled a bit sadly.

"Was that all you needed, honey?" the woman on the other line asked in an effort to sound cheerful, but she obviously was horribly concerned.

"Yeah. Thanks so much, mommy. I love you." Alfred blew a kiss through the phone, and, noticing the jealous flash in Arthur's eyes, laughed and gave his boyfriend a kiss on the cheek as well.

He never realized that the jealousy was caused by the loving relationship Alfred had with his parents. Arthur just wished his mom were alive to worry about him like that, and wished even harder for his dad to give a fuck about him.

But he'd accepted that he was chasing a mirage, and simply settled for envying those who weren't.

"We love you too, Alfred. Please call us again if anything ever happens or if you wanna talk."

"I will. Have a nice time for the duration of your trip, or whatever."

"We'll try. Please be careful."

"We will, mom. Seeya when you get back."

"Bye, honey."

Click.

Sigh.

Alfred slumped back and put a hand on his eyes tiredly. Arthur looked at him worriedly (_"It's your fault he's like this, your petty issue are burdening him, you're ruining his life, you're tiring him, wearing him down-"_) and patted his hand in comfort.

"I'm alright." Alfred immediately answered, taking his hand off and grinning. "Just so happy you get to stay with us." He moved to hug Arthur, but the older teen pushed him away and shook his head.

At the dejected look in Alfred's eyes, he only replied by pointing at himself and then waving his hand in front of his nose as if to dispel a disgusting smell.

Alfred blinked for a second, then started laughing, setting the phone on the table and pulling Arthur up in a standing hug despite his protests.

"Alright, go take a shower and I'll lend you some clothes. We'll go get your stuff from your apartment after that."

_...OOOOOOOOOOO..._

As if the sight of the apartment building wasn't enough to cause shivers down his spine, Arthur felt positively frozen when they stopped in front of the familiar door to his flat. Alfred both glared at the door as if it were responsible for everything and tightened his grasp on Arthur's hand.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur knocked.

Relief coursed through him like wildfire when nobody answered.

Standing on the tip of his toes, he reached over the doorframe and fumbled around for a spare key they always kept there. His fingers curled around something small, metallic and dusty, and he knew he'd found it.

He slipped the familiar key into the lock and shivered when the door unlocked with an ominous clank.

Carefully, they stepped inside the barely-lit apartment, flipping the lights on as soon as possible. The heavy atmosphere of the entire place seemed to weigh down on the teens, making a collective shiver ripple through them.

Alfred whiffed the heavy smell of alcohol, smoke and sex in the air and wondered how Arthur did it.

Arthur didn't even blink as they quickly made it past the kitchen and living room, to his room.

Thankfully, his room looked the same as ever as they stepped in. Bland, dusty and boring, with bare walls and minimal furniture.

"Alright." Alfred sighed as he dropped the large gym bags they'd brought with them. "Show me your closet. I'll get your clothes, and you get everything else you need to bring."

Arthur nodded and mechanically pointed at his closet on the opposite wall. As Alfred moved to pack his clothes, he surveyed his old room melancholically.

Honestly, he didn't want to lug anything else. Everything around him held bittersweet memories that he wasn't always keen on remembering.

Like that lamp on the night table. It, once upon a time, had been his only friend. He'd conversed with it for hours and hours on end and poured all his troubles out to it.

That usually happened when his father smoked in the house or when he got delirious from the lack of sleep. Thankfully, both happened rarely, so most of the time, the lamp stayed silent.

Arthur decided not to take his lamp friend after all. It held all his darkest secrets, and he didn't need it now that Alfred was lighting up his life.

Moving on, he nostalgically brushed his fingers over the wooden desk where he did homework and frequently fell asleep. There were scribbles where he'd done math problems on his desk ( _"Screw paper, I have a desk!" _) and doodles of people he didn't like.

Arthur chuckled. Despite his heavy problems, he'd always been a normal teen on the outside. He didn't know why everything had befallen him and not one of the football jocks that bullied him occasionally.

But he immediately took it back when a guilty pang hit his heart.

No matter how mad he was at them or how much they hated him, he couldn't muster the malevolence to wish such an ugly fate on anyone. No one deserved to suffer like he did. Not even douchebags.

Not finding much to carry with him except his precious collection of well-loved books and a stuffed unicorn his mother had sewn for him for his 3rd birthday, Arthur decided to head elsewhere in the apartment to grab his other stuff. He lightly tapped Alfred on the shoulder and motioned the door, then turned around and left Alfred to pack his clothes.

Once outside, he delicately closed the door shut and sighed. So many memories, just thrown away like that. True, they hadn't been the best, but Arthur had spent a large part of his life here. It felt like a part of him was dying.

Then again, the dying part seemed to be the tortured, broken Arthur from before. So he wasn't complaining, or anything. It was high time to make new memories with Alfred, anyways.

Finally turning around to keep searching, his breath hitched. This was the first time since he'd been back where he'd actually taken the time to look at the room.

The living room.

The place that almost became his grave.

Nothing had changed. The beer bottles were still there, on the same sofa, the same remote on the ground with the same lamp in the corner and the same table in front of said sofa.

And then, there were the shards of glass on the ground and the spots of dried red on the dirty carpet.

Arthur struggled to take a breath. His heart was beating fast in his chest, a pounding headache making its way into his cranium.

The stillness was unnerving. Such tranquility and silence had never been so terrifying.

Because silence left everything to imagination.

With nothing to distract him, Arthur found his eyes directed at the table. There was a flash, and he saw himself trying to protect his head with his arms. There was a crash somewhere, and Arthur jumped, heart thundering.

His eyes landed on the broken beer bottle on the ground and bile rose in his throat. He knew the crash was only in his mind, but he just couldn't stop reliving the memories, the trauma.

He made the mistake of blinking. As soon as his eyes closed, an image of him screaming as he was slammed head-first on the table flashed in his mind.

Snapping his eyes open and panting, Arthur clapped his hands over his ears. He could still hear himself scream, and the pained sound kept repeating itself in his head like a broken CD.

_"Make it stop, make it stop, I don't want to hear this, I don't want to relive this, just make it stop, stop screaming, STOP SCREAMING." _

A sob welled up in Arthur's throat and he shut his eyes, shying away from the sight of the innocent-looking table and sofa. His tears, his cries, his pleas and begs, the humiliation, the desperation, the growing horror and the pain, _oh god, the pain _, they all replayed in his mind over and over again.

He wanted to die if that's what it took to make it all stop. The noise and images were just too much. He never again would be able to forget. If he ever saw the damned sofa and table, he'd remember, he'd remember that he'd almost died there, he'd remember that it was by a sliver of golden luck that he'd lived.

Arthur wiped the tears away before they could fall, even if no one was there to see. Because he was there. And he was also ashamed of his conduct. So many tears, so many begs... Such weakness was humiliating.

It was like his near-death experience had broken a dam and now, it wouldn't close again. Before that day, he couldn't remember the last time he'd cried. He might even have cried more during the last two days than ever before in his life.

And he hated it because he was weak. Pathetic. He felt like curling up in a hole and dying.

Mostly because his tears and fears weren't helping his recovery from trauma.

And mostly because Alfred wanted him to recover from his trauma.

And he was disappointing him.

Now on the brink of hyperventilation, Arthur tried calming down. It felt like his lungs couldn't remember what large, deep breaths were anymore. He took it upon himself to teach them again by leaning against the wall and putting a hand to his heart.

It took a while, but his frantic breathing finally calmed down to a respectable pace. Bracing himself, Arthur opened his eyes and glared harshly at the table, as if it were at fault. He'd almost died there, yes, but the past was the past, and he wasn't dead. He had to keep telling himself that so he wouldn't lapse into another fit of hyperventilation.

Besides, there were spots of dried blood on the carpet, and he knew that they were testaments of his strength during a time of crisis.

The thought gave him a boost of confidence, and he straightened up to keep looking for his stuff. The demons all but flew away. Arthur even managed a small, sad smile.

He took a step forward.

The lock suddenly clicked, and the front door swung open.

_...OOOOOOOOOO..._

Alfred snickered as he stretched the pink boxer he held in his hand. It had obviously been white before someone had washed it with the red, but it was pink nonetheless. That, in itself, deserved a round of chuckles.

Humming a cheerful tune, Alfred pulled his cellphone out of his pocket to check the time, then set it on Arthur's bed. He then turned to the drawer next to the closet again, working on the rest of the boxers and the socks.

Outside, there was the sound of a door opening harshly, and Alfred briefly wondered why Arthur had gone out. Perhaps the environment was too stifling for him. It would make sense. If Alfred were to escape death by a hair's length, he too wouldn't be keen on returning to the site of attempted murder.

And then, there was talking outside. It started out soft, and Alfred wondered if he was hearing things. Arthur couldn't speak at all, so it couldn't have been him. Maybe he turned the TV on to create some kind of noise to distract him?

And then there was a crash.

That sent Alfred to his feet in a second, heart thundering. In his mind, Arthur was hurt, collapsed, had dropped something out of weakness, or something grave of the sort. He gulped down and stayed frozen, listening attentively for more.

He would have heard the following words even if he had his Ipod plugged in his ears.

"FUCKING BITCH, WHY ARE YOU BACK HERE!"

Oh.

_Oh. _

Alfred's mouth felt dry. Even from another room, he could feel the ominous aura above them. All the cheeriness seemed to have flown out the window in a second.

But Alfred couldn't move.

He knew Arthur was in the other room, at the mercy of his attempted murderer, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to move. Maybe it was because he knew, he had seen what the man was capable of, and deep inside, he didn't want to face him.

He was human. He got scared, sometimes, too.

But he couldn't be scared now! Not when Arthur needed him! If he really was Arthur's hero, he had to get out there and protect him.

He couldn't move, though.

Move yells came from the other room, swearing, and screaming, and degrading, and _god_, Alfred was going crazy by just being in the adjacent room.

How had Arthur done it all this time?

At a particularly loud yell, Alfred flinched and tripped, falling back on the bed. Scrambling to gain footing and rush out, his hands closed over his phone.

He immediately stopped, looking down fearfully at the piece of technology, as if it, too, would start yelling.

His eyes went to the door.

He licked his dry lips and gulped down nervously.

His eyes went back to the phone, and back to the door.

And back to the phone.

He gulped down nervously and flipped it open.

_...OOOOOOOOOOO..._

Arthur was terrified. Mortified. Horrified. Struck in place by the overwhelming fear that coursed through his entire body as he came face-to-face with his attempted murderer, the monster, _his father_.

"Where's that snarky tongue of yours now, you whore?" his father provoked, crossing his arms and glaring at him from the doorway to the living room.

His heart was beating fast, too fast, horribly fast, and he felt faint. It seemed like his legs would give in at any moment now, and he would fall, fall down into a never ending abyss of fear, cruel laughter and pained screaming echoing around him.

"Finally, blessed silence. You've finally done something right with your life!"

And the words hurt. Because despite the twisted form of praise he'd just received, he felt crushed. And he didn't understand why. He'd always wanted recognition, he'd always wanted appreciation, so why the words made him want to scream eluded him.

Maybe it was because they praised his weakness. They approved of him being weak.

Arthur steeled his glare. Alfred had said that his father didn't love him, and he would trust Alfred on the veracity of those words. He was lost, and would most probably panic if he were to analyse in depth the relationship between him and his father, so for now (_ "And for forever." _), he would have to trust Alfred.

His father praised him for being weak.

So he would do just the opposite.

He raised his eyes slowly and tried his best not to flinch when the two murderous glares locked. Even if he could have spoken, he wouldn't have said anything. Not only because the tension was near-overwhelming, but also because he didn't have anything to say. Words felt wasted on a desperate case like his father.

"So. What the fuck are you doing back here? Didn't you have enough last time?"

Arthur shivered when his heart skipped a bit, but kept his gaze strong.

"You fucking masochist. If you really liked the pain, you should've stayed." A snicker made Arthur's blood boil. "I could have killed you in so many ways... You'd love it, and I'd have you out of my sight for good. Imagine how beautiful the sight would be. You. Lying dead on the ground. So much blood. Or did you drown? You neck crooked, maybe you were hung."

Shivers ran across Arthur's skin, and he took a step back as his father took a step forwards.

"Blackened and charred, were you burned alive?"

Step. Step. Arthur tried to keep the bile down.

"So many bruises littering your perfect skin, were you beaten to death?"

Step. Step. A fearful whimper escaped Arthur's mouth, panic swelling in his chest.

"You're missing fingers, an eye, and a leg. Oops, did I cut through an important artery?"

Step. Step. Arthur's back hit the wall and he tried to scream. No sounds came out of his mouth, though, and he felt tears welling up in his eyes.

"You're bent over. I wonder how hard it is to snap a human spine."

Step. Arthur stood frozen. Step. He felt so trapped. Step. His mind was yelling at him to do something, _anything_! Step.

And soon, he found himself face to face up close with his father.

There was silence as they both scrutinized each other's faces. Arthur's heart was thundering, his hands felt moist, he wanted to scream, to cry, to escape. The tension was so heavy in the air that it could have been cut with a knife. And suddenly, a crazy grin broke out of the older Kirkland's face.

"Boo."

If Arthur could have screamed, he surely would have broken the world record of "longest desperate scream". If such a thing existed.

Instead of dwelling on those thoughts, he balled his fists and shut his eyes fearfully, taking a deep breath. A second later, he gathered all his strength and pushed his father by the shoulders, creating an exit for him. He immediately dashed out of his corner and towards him room, slamming the door closed as he entered.

Alfred immediately looked up, dropping the cellphone he was fiddling with.

Noticing the distraught, terrified look in Arthur's eyes, he set the phone on the bed and got up, gently gathering him in his arms and hugging him tightly.

Arthur took a deep breath, trying to calm his thumping heart. Panic and fear were rolling off of him in waves, and even Alfred, the one who thought that "the atmosphere" was a book he could read, could tell he was distressed.

"It's okay, baby. I'm here now. He'll never touch you again, y'hear me?"

Arthur took a shaky breath and nodded.

"Good. I'm done packing. Let's leave and never look back." He kissed Arthur soothingly on the cheek and untangled his arms, taking his hand instead.

Alfred pushed a button on his phone, then snapped it shut. He slipped it into his pocket and grabbed the two gym bags filled with Arthur's few possessions, along with his schoolbag.

Taking a deep breath and preparing for the worst, Arthur interlocked his fingers with Alfred's and walked out of the room.

His father was still in the same place as before, leaning against the wall with a smug look.

"Who's the new kid?"

Arthur glared at him defiantly, emboldened Alfred's comforting presence. He was strong. He shouldn't have been afraid of fighting back. He was strong. One look at the splinters set on his father's nose made his heart speed up. He was strong. He wasn't afraid.

Arthur got up on the ball of his toes to peck Alfred on the cheek. Just to get a good reaction out of his father. Just to show him he was free and unafraid to live his life anymore.

And a good reaction he got indeed.

"So you're queer now?" his father huffed, silent fury crossing his eyes. "Can't expect less from a bitch like you."

"You have no right to talk to him like that." Alfred suddenly found himself saying. He realized he'd said it only after he looked down at Arthur, shocked gazes meeting.

"The fuck are you getting yourself into, boy? I don't know or care who you are, but this isn't your business. Bugger off, would you?"

"I won't. Arthur is my boyfriend now, and I love him. I'll protect him, even if it's from his own father." Alfred glared back.

"What the fuck. Just get out of my house, you fucking queers. Go die in a ditch somewhere and do the world a favour." The harshness with which the words were pronounced made Alfred's blood run cold. Arthur didn't even flinch.

"You'll regret ever laying a hand on Artie, you shitface excuse for a father." Alfred seethed before turning around and dragging Arthur towards the front door.

"Don't ever show your face around me again, you useless slut!" the enraged Brit yelled from behind them.

He was ignored as the teens triumphantly crossed the threshold, never to turn back again. Head held high, Arthur walked away from his old life, towards a new beginning.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

***Ginormous author's notes, beware. It would help comprehension if you at least scrolled through them, though C:***

**Peroxide is that type of disinfectant you use for shallow cuts. I think it's a bitch because it hurts more when you use it on your wound than when you actually wound yourself. But after that, it's smooth healing ahead~  
><strong>

**Analogy with the talking lamp and Alfred. I'm trying too hard xD**

**Arthur's psych: Arthur doesn't have complete PTSD symptoms because he's coping well enough with Alfred's help. Then again, he still went through a physical and psychological shock that was enough to scar him for good, so he's experiencing some PTSD symptoms like constant flashbacks, avoidance of anything that would remind him of his trauma, and increased arousal (he had trouble sleeping the first night). I'd call his condition something more like an acute stress disorder than PTSD, but it's still enough to send him into a panic attack if he comes in contact with stimuli from his experience. **

********Arthur's strong composure degraded easily enough because the gory images of himself, coupled with the fact that he knows his father is capable of making them come true delivered several heavy hits to his psychological stability. So basically, he's just scared out of his mind because the death scenarios feel real to him.********

****Alfred's psych: PTSD is also present in witnesses of trauma, but I really wouldn't go as far as saying that Alfred has PTSD. Just fear, because the witnessed the aftermath of Arthur's traumatic experience. It's a very human feeling. Kinda like physiological shock. You can't bring yourself to move because you're afraid to move, because you know what could happen if you moved. So you just stay frozen. It's not like Alfred doesn't want to help Arthur, it's just that he can't. ****

**Arthur's dad's psych: Causing fear in someone can be extremely satisfying to a person that has lost everything. They want to give themselves an illusion of power, of importance, of control, so they turn to abuse. Hurting and breaking someone is much easier than bonding with them, so the abuser feels extremely powerful when another person is cowering at their feet. That would explain Arthur's dad's actions.**

********The USUK Relationship: Alfred's like Arthur's psychological safety blanket. He trusts Alfred and believes in him so much that his mere presence at his side makes him feel like he's invincible. It's another psychological effect, or something. For all kink meme readers who know what's going to happen with Arthur's relationship with Alfred later on in the story... this is where it all started getting worse.  
><strong>******

********AND YES, THAT'S ALL THE RESEARCH FOR THIS CHAPTER. There will be a bit more later on, but... Anyways, let's just say this is the most extensive block of research that has been done for this story :') ********

********So uhhh... I hope I didn't traumatize anyone to hell and back, and if I did, I apologize OTL Ummm... if I did, drop a review and I'll come pick you up from the gates of hell? :') And, even if I didn't, it would be really nice if you reviewed because, well, you know how much of a review-whore I am ;A; So... please review?  
><strong>******


	10. Leave

**Author's Notes:**

**Respawning after having died of joy when reading the reviews in 3...2...1... Hi guys, I'm back :D And I'm here to thank all the beautiful people who reviewed last chapter, meaning AFreezingFlame, Here's Your Cheese Omelette, Waytomuchadoaboutnothing, SOSVampire, bree4913, baconis1priority, Apple-Cola, prussiaa, bambooHP, Pychopathic Robot 9, Knight-SinisterRose, ShadowEntity, SkyFox345, Izu3039, animefangirl55, Paigeolivar4, SamuraiSal1, Pureh, Lady Skorpio and Mesmerize Bulls. All of you are wonderful, and I hope you're all having a nice day up to now~ (:**

**Once again, my apologies for what happened with chapter 8 and 9 yesterday. I had no idea ;w; Please don't kill me? xD**

**Also, if anyone can tell me what the chapter names have in relation with the chapter contents, they get cookies at will~ Just something to entertain you if you're ever bored or something xD  
><strong>

**Things in **underline only** are recordings on playback. **

**Alright, so warnings for this chapter include: Morbid imagery and a failed shot at the judiciary system. Stupid google, not telling me what I want to know. **

* * *

><p>The night held many trials for both boys. With a bit of effort, Arthur had coaxed Alfred into his own bed, so the two were left alone to their thoughts in the darkness.<p>

Arthur's heart swelled with newfound hope as he thought of all the freedom he held at his fingertips now. Everything felt new, foreign to him. As if he'd been wearing sunglasses all his life and had finally taken them off to see how colourful life really was. Slipping his eyes shut, he smiled. It finally felt like he'd started living.

Alfred slept on and off that night. As soon as he would enter his dream sequence, Arthur would pop into his head. And most of the time, it wasn't pretty. He hadn't had a doubt that he'd be getting nightmares ever since he visited Arthur's apartment. Arthur's father's words had been audible from inside Arthur's room as well, and Alfred had been unable to move from his spot because of the fear swelling in his chest.

The first time he awoke, the image of Arthur stabbed to death ebbed away in the night.

The second time he awoke, he shook the image of Arthur with his limbs cracked and twisted in many impossible shapes out of his head.

The third time he awoke, he found himself crying as he tried to forget the image of Arthur dying at his very feet.

The fourth time he awoke, he shivered and wondered how in hell Arthur had survived all this time. And just because he wasn't sure what reality was anymore, he slipped out of bed and padded down to the living room.

Relief enveloped him like a warm blanket on a wintery night as he saw Arthur's form curled on the couch, untouched, unharmed and pure. He sighed and smiled sadly, stepping closer to him and kneeling down next to him. He took a moment to map out the delicate features of his boyfriend's face before lightly running a finger over his skin, as if to verify Arthur's presence.

Arthur hummed in his sleep and leaned over, trying to inch into Alfred's touch. The latter just chuckled and bent down, gently brushing his lips against Arthur's left eyelid in a soft kiss. He stayed there, enjoying the rarely serene expression on the older teen's face before brushing some hair out of his eyes and standing up.

"Good night." He whispered almost inaudibly, lovingly caressing Arthur's sleeping form with his gaze before turning around and heading back to bed.

Now reassured that nothing would ever harm Arthur again, Alfred slipped under the covers and yawned with a smile.

He slept like a baby until the sun came up.

_...OOOOOOOOOOOOO..._

"Let's skip school and go to the police department today." Alfred suggested in a way-too-enthusiastic voice as he gobbled down his seventh waffle that morning.

Arthur just raised an eyebrow at him and cut a piece of his own breakfast.

"Arthur's right, don't you guys have anything important at school? Last time I checked, the holiday season's exam session was coming up in two or three weeks, and the math teacher hadn't finished her course yet." Matthew nodded.

"You don't even have the same teacher as us, Mattie." Alfred pouted, crossing his arms.

"Maybe, but the teachers follow a common teaching plan. I'm pretty sure you guys still have new things to learn, too, before the exam session."

"Well, crap. I really wanted to get this police issue over with." Alfred frowned, looking expectantly at Arthur. Of course, he wouldn't pressure him, but... The sooner they did this, the better.

He voiced his concerns, noticing the flinch in Arthur's expression as he did.

He was obviously still nervous. And that obviously wouldn't wane, even if they put it off for years.

"You know I'll be right next to you no matter what, right?" Alfred whispered, gently slipping his hand into Arthur's underneath the table.

Arthur nodded and tightened his grip, toying with the maple-soaked waffle in his plate. It's not like he didn't want to go report to the police, it's just that...

He couldn't find the words.

He obviously couldn't speak, yes, but even if he could have, he didn't know how to say it. Being blunt would have been the best choice, but it felt like English had completely escaped him. The situation was just so confusing for him, he wasn't sure how to deal with it.

"So... What do you say?" Alfred snapped him back to reality.

Arthur looked at him for another moment, then shrugged in defeat. Well, he had to do it sometime. Like Alfred had pointed out, the sooner they got this thing over with, the better.

"Great! We don't have to go to school then!" Alfred laughed, swallowing his ninth waffle with glee.

Arthur couldn't help but chuckle hopelessly at his boyfriend's antics.

"Well, I guess I'll just go to school and inform the principal that you two are not coming." Matthew sighed, taking his plate and going for the sink.

Arthur immediately got up and grabbed his whiteboard, going for the sink as well.

_**"Leave the dishes to me, Matthew. You should get going to school." **_He erased and waited for Matthew's nod of approval before continuing. _**"And thank you... For everything." **_

"It's my pleasure, really." The younger twin smiled gently, putting his plates in the sink and going for the living room. "Now then, good luck, you two. Please don't act stupid, Alfred."

"Hey, why me?"

"Arthur sure isn't going to be the one causing trouble if any arises."

That drew a smile from Arthur, who beamed and pulled his (borrowed) pyjama sleeves up to start on the dishes.

"Fine. G'day, Mattie." Alfred sulked, bringing his plates over to the sink.

"G'day, Al. Arthur."

And the door swung shut as Matthew left for school.

"Do the dishes and I'll go get us some clothes." Alfred decided, pecking Arthur on the cheek.

He simply nodded and poured liquid soap on Alfred's plate.

Alfred quickly tended to his task, returning downstairs just as Arthur dried the last cup off.

"Here. These stuffy button-up shirts and sweater vests are all I could find. You really don't have a sense of fashion, do you?" Alfred muttered, handing the clothes over.

Arthur glared at him and punched him in the arm, just for good measure. For a bony-looking guy, he sure was strong. Alfred recoiled and yelped as he felt his bone throb.

"Hey! That hurt!"

Arthur just kept walking towards the bathroom with a smug smirk on his face.

They both changed in their own corners of the house, meeting up in the living room once they were done.

"Okay, so, you ready to go?"

_**"No, but will I ever be?" **_

"True. Well, no sense putting it off. We've come this far, so we can't back out at the very last stretch." Alfred grinned.

Arthur just smiled and shrugged his coat on.

Once dressed up in his coat, hat and mittens, Alfred opened the door, only to be hit in the face by a cold gust of wind and snow.

"Aw, crap... It's too cold outside..." he pouted, grabbing a couple of scarves. "Here, put this on." He suggested, wrapping his own scarf around his neck and handing the extra one to Arthur.

Arthur looked at the scarf suspiciously then shook his head, making a move for the doorway.

"Arthur!" Alfred whined, disappointed. "You'll catch a cold, and that's the last thing we need." He huffed. "Here." He smiled, throwing the scarf around Arthur neck.

As soon as the fabric came in contact with Arthur's neck, he froze and tried to scream. Of course, all that came out was a slight whistling sound, but the flailing that came with it alerted Alfred immediately.

"Artie?"

_Hands, so many hands, grasping at him, squeezing, grabbing, bruising, choking him, oh god, the pain, he couldn't breathe, couldn't see, why were they laughing, it hurt, why were they laughing and hurting him and killing him? _

"Arthur!"

_"Make them stop, make them stop, it hurts, oh god, it hurts, I can't breathe, I'm falling, I'm dying, it burns, help me, help me, please, please, what have I done to deserve this, please just help me, someone, anyone..." _

"ARTHUR!"

Jerking away from Alfred's arms violently, Arthur retreated into a corner and ducked his head under his arms, shivering.

Alfred gaped at him in horrified confusion and tried to find the strength to move. Because it hurt to see his friend, his _boyfriend_, so afraid, so scarred, so _broken_.

He hadn't done it on purpose. He hadn't known.

_"You stupid idiot, how could you have not known? He was almost strangled to death, of course he'd want nothing near his neck!" _

But he hadn't thought it would affect him that much.

He had just wanted to help Arthur.

He had hurt him.

"Oh god... Oh god, Arthur, I'm so sorry, I didn't- I didn't know... I-I'm so sorry." Alfred whispered, kneeling next to Arthur, but not daring to touch him lest he react violently again.

Slowly, Arthur raised his wide, terrified eyes and set them on Alfred's guilty expression. His gaze softened, and he shakily reached over and touched his shoulder.

Alfred took it as some sort of green light and very gently gathered Arthur in a tender hug.

"I'm sorry..." he repeated, burying his face in his boyfriend's shoulder. "So sorry... I wasn't thinking, and I just wanted to protect you... I'm really sorry, I really am..."

Arthur just pushed him away, and after some inner conflict, tried a smile.

And although Arthur himself didn't seem convinced, Alfred knew he was forgiven.

"Do you still want to go to the police station?" he asked, gently pulling Arthur up.

Without hesitation, Arthur nodded. He didn't want to be any weaker than he had to be. Alfred was being strong for him, so he had to reciprocate the gesture. He had to prove he could be strong, too.

"Alright." Alfred grabbed his backpack and gently took Arthur's hand, leading him out. Arthur waited in silence (not like he had a choice) until Alfred had locked the door, then had shyly taken his hand as they'd walked down the steps, into the street.

The walk in itself had been refreshing, despite being silent. The cool, crisp winter air had now fully descended upon the city, making the boys shiver despite their garments every time it blew.

What irked Alfred a bit was the fact that Arthur magically seemed to find something to occupy his hands whenever someone started walking their way. And once they were past them, he just slid his hand into Alfred's again. And repeated when another person came within their viewing range.

"Arthur." He finally decided to set things straight. "Are you ashamed of me?"

The Brit's head snapped up so fast, Alfred swore he heard the bones crack. The look of pure desperation in his wide eyes said enough, though. Arthur didn't even need to frantically shake his head like he did a moment later for Alfred to understand.

"Then why won't you hold my hand whenever someone looks at us?" Alfred muttered, looking at his boyfriend sadly.

Arthur opened his mouth to tell him how much he wanted to hold him, love him and kiss him in public, but no sounds came. Instead, he just took Alfred's gloved hand in both of his and pressed it firmly to his heart.

It's not that he was ashamed of Alfred, not at all.

_"I'm just ashamed of myself. You can do so much better than me, Alfred. Why do you risk people seeing you with me? I'll only tarnish your golden boy reputation, and your life will spiral down because of me. I love you, Alfred. I just can't bring myself to love _me, _though." _

But that was never said. The words never came out, couldn't come out, wouldn't come out.

But Alfred finally decided to read the atmosphere and frowned, pressing a firm, chastising kiss to Arthur's forehead.

The next time they saw someone coming their way, Alfred steeled his grip on Arthur's hand.

They sidestepped the businesswoman and their fingers never once untangled themselves.

_...OOOOOOOOOOOO..._

"Are you ready now?" Alfred asked, tapping his foot impatiently against the pavement. They'd been standing in front of the police department for what, 5 minutes now? With an attention span as short as Alfred's, anyone would have found that long.

Arthur just shot him a dirty glare and punched him again, which seemed to have been his alternative of choice since he couldn't snap back at him with words. While Alfred got busy rubbing his arm and muttering something about Arthur being too strong for such a scrawny guy (which later deserved him another punch to the arm), Arthur took a deep breath and nodded.

Alfred immediately stiffened and led the way, opening the door to the inside.

Arthur clenched his fist, trying to calm his thundering heart for what would soon come. Gazes from wandering police officers were thrown curiously at them, probably wondering what teenagers were doing there during school hours.

Somehow, they made it to the front desk without Arthur collapsing of a panic attack.

"Hello, boys. How may I help you?" the woman at the reception smiled, turning her entire body to face them.

"My boyfriend and I" Alfred sighed as Arthur winced uncomfortably at the term. "have come to report a crime." He looked down, flustered. "Not that I can't solve it, or anything, cause I'm a hero and stuff, but y'know, it's always nice to let authorities know and all that jazz."

"I see." The woman laughed, picking up a phone. "Well, I know someone to whom you can talk. Let me call her."

Arthur seemed to sag in relief at the mention of the person being a woman. Women were so much easier to deal with when it came to conversation.

Except that Natalia chick at school, but she was just plain creepy.

"Alright, well, she says she'll have you two. Just go down the hall and turn left to meet her there." The receptionist announced, closing the phone.

"Thanks." Alfred grinned, leading Arthur away by the hand.

Every step felt like lead to Arthur, and he didn't even know why. He was on his way to freeing himself of his burdens, right? So why did he feel so heavy?

He stopped when Alfred stopped, looking up to find a short-haired blond woman in a female officer uniform looking at them.

"Hello." She greeted in a sweet, innocent voice. "I'm Lily Zwingli, and I'll be taking a report of the crime you're here to tell me about, okay?"

Shaking himself from the shock (holy hell, this young, innocent-looking girl was a _police officer!_), Alfred grinned and raised a thumbs up at her.

"Yep! I'm Alfred F Jones, and he's my boyfriend, Arthur Kirkland."

"Nice to meet you. Now follow me, and we'll go to a room so we can talk alone." She smiled, leading the way.

Arthur gulped down, a shiver racking his form. Alfred just smiled comfortingly at him and leaned over to peck him on the cheek.

"Alright, in here." The lady finally stopped in front of a number-labelled room, unlocking the door and leading them inside. It was a simple room with a desk and three chairs, but with, no doubt, cameras and recording tapes planted in the walls.

"Do you want to go in alone?" Alfred asked, staring at Arthur comfortingly. "I'll be right outside, if you don't want me to see what you write."

Arthur seemed to consider it for a moment, then shook his head. Alfred was his boyfriend, damnit, and it was time he himself started acting like a good one. Couples were supposed to keep no secrets from each other, right? Well, this was a good place to start.

Giving him an insistent tug, Arthur took the lead and marched into the room.

"Alright, there are security cameras and recording tapes, all for reference purposes. You just have to talk, and we'll have a transcript of everything you said." Lily smiled, leaning on the desk.

Arthur nodded and took a deep breath, looking at Alfred. Alfred nodded back, understanding what he wanted from him.

"Alright. Start by telling me what you're reporting." The police officer clicked her pen and wrote something on her notepad.

"Attempted murder." Alfred replied coolly.

"The victim?"

"Arthur."

Lily looked gently at Arthur, who shied away from her gaze.

"Method?"

"Strangulation."

The conversation in itself was so devoid of tension despite the subject at hand that Arthur felt himself sagging in his seat. He was doing this. He could do this. He would be the winner this time.

"Location?"

"Arthur's apartment." Alfred replied as Arthur pulled his whiteboard out of Alfred's backpack and wrote the address on it.

"I see." Lily noted it down on her notepad. "Any weapons involved?"

_**"A bottle of beer and hands." **_

"Can you not speak?" Lily asked gently, trying not to pressure Arthur. The latter just looked down, ashamed.

"The strangulation damaged his vocal cords. My brother said he wouldn't be able to talk for a couple of weeks." Alfred took it upon himself to explain.

"I see." The woman gravely nodded. "Well, then, Alfred, I'll ask you to read what Arthur writes out loud so that the tape recorders can put it on the transcript. Can you do that for me?"

"Uhh... Yeah." Didn't mean he wanted to, though. Reliving it by reconstruction the night he found Arthur was bad enough already. "Umm... He says 'a bottle of beer and hands'."

"Thank you. Now, Arthur, I'm going to ask you to reconstruct the scene of the crime. Tell me any detail you can remember. Take your time, just don't let anything you can remember out."

Arthur immediately froze and grasped Alfred's hand tightly.

"It's okay, baby." Alfred kissed his forehead comfortingly. "You told Mattie, so you can tell them as well."

"Who is this Mattie, if I may inquire?" Lily asked, smiling at the boys' antics.

"He's my little brother. He's the one who gave Arthur first aid when I brought him home." Alfred answered, hoping Matthew wouldn't get too involved with the case.

"Alright. Please, go ahead whenever you're ready, okay?" Lily smiled pleasantly, as if she had asked Arthur to tell her his favourite colour.

Arthur nodded and took a deep breath, shakily grabbing his board.

"It started off as a verbal spat." Alfred read over Arthur's shoulder, trying to will the images away. "The tone escalated until I mentioned my mother's suicide." Shiver. He'd never known Arthur's mom had committed suicide. Explained why she wasn't there to take care of him. "Dad got extremely angry and broke a bottle of beer on my arms."

"Did you sustain any injuries?" Lily asked, watching as Arthur pulled his jacket off and rolled his sleeves up.

Not only had the bandages been uncovered, but the mottled bruises on his neck had finally come out in full sight. They still seemed as disgusting as ever to Alfred. Turning his eyes away, he helped Arthur remove the bandages until the twin cuts on both his forearms peeked out.

"May I take a picture for archiving?" Lily asked, pulling out a digital camera.

Arthur nodded and extended his arms so that Lily could take pictures of the scabbed-over cuts. They were healing well, at least.

"Go on." She smiled once she was done.

Alfred waited for Arthur to start writing before reading again.

"He grabbed me by my throat and hit my head against the table." Alfred choked at that, disguising it as a cough when Arthur looked up worriedly.

He smiled and thanked Arthur mentally for not using explicit vocabulary to describe what had happened. He didn't think he could handle it if he were to read 'he squeezed my throat and smashed the side of my head into the table' out loud.

"He slammed me on the ground and sat on my stomach, choking me with one hand and holding my wrists with his other." The writing suddenly started getting squiggly, and Alfred took it as his cue to lean over and hug Arthur gently. "Take your time, baby. We have an entire life ahead of us. Deep breaths, it's all over now." He whispered in Arthur's ear despite the uncomfortable feeling that was coiling in his own stomach.

Arthur nodded and took a couple of deep breaths before continuing to write. The description and re-creation of the scene of the crime passed without another hitch after that. Probably because Arthur felt at ease with Alfred next to him all the time.

"Alright." Lily nodded seriously, contrasting with her innocent appearance. "So the attempted murderer was your father?"

Arthur nodded, and Alfred voiced it for the transcript.

"Have you got a medical folder on those injuries?"

Arthur shook his head, and Alfred gulped down before whispering a brief 'no'.

"The first thing you should have done was go to a hospital."

"W-We know, b-but he called, and I was panicking, and I wasn't sure what to do... He looked okay when Mattie was done, so we just winged it, I guess..."

"That's no excuse. Perhaps your next stop should be a clinic, to at least make sure he's healing right." Lily chastised cutely, wagging her index finger in a negative motion.

"Okay." Alfred replied guiltily, looking down. He was already being a bad boyfriend, putting Arthur's needs past him like that.

Noticing the discomfort hovering around Alfred, Arthur tried a comforting smile and patted his shoulder. Alfred just smiled back sadly.

"Alright, we're just about done. Anything else you want to tell me, boys?" Lily asked pleasantly, reverting back to her sweet persona.

Arthur thought for a moment, and shook his head just as Alfred said 'yes'. The Brit cocked his head in confusion, wondering if he'd left anything out. Alfred wasn't looking at him, though.

"Yeah... Uhh... I don't know if this counts for anything or whatever, but Arthur has endured years and years of verbal and psychological abuse at the hands of his father." He whispered unsurely.

Arthur's eyes dimmed, and he looked away in shame.

"Horrible..." Lily muttered. "Verbal and psychological abuse are two very dangerous forms of abuse, maybe even worse than physical abuse, you know. Scars will heal, but memories won't fade. Unfortunately, we cannot add this to his file if we don't have proof. I believe you, but the system will not." She sighed. "So, I guess since you don't have evidence..."

Arthur shook his head negatively.

Alfred pulled his cellphone out and nodded.

"I do."

Arthur's eyes widened in shock as he looked up at his boyfriend. How in hell had he managed to do that? Proof of verbal and psychological violence was very hard to obtain, after all, so...

"You do?" Lily cocked her head, leaning forward again.

"Yeah. We went back to Arthur's apartment to move him out yesterday. His father walked in on us and I just happened to have my cellphone out." Alfred fiddled with his phone before putting it down, flipped open. "Here."

Arthur's breath hitched as the police officer looked at the phone, then gently pressed the button for the "play" command.

At first, there was static noise and ruffling, and then the speakers adjusted. There was the sound of human breathing (Alfred's, Arthur figured), slow and soft, as if _scared_.

Arthur's heart erupted with guilt. It was his fault Alfred had gotten so scared. He had been a bad boyfriend again.

And then, there was yelling.

Arthur jumped at the sound of it and clung to Alfred's arm out of reflex, letting go and blushing when he realized he was practically digging holes into the cloth with his nails.

The Alfred in the video moved, as perceived by the change of lighting, but it was still way too dark in the room to tell anything out. All they knew was that Alfred was getting closer to the noise.

"You've finally done something right with your life!" 

Oh. The words rushed back into Arthur's head, and he breathed deep, convincing himself that this was one last stretch before the finish line. Nothing to be afraid of. It was almost over.

"I could have killed you in so many ways... You'd love it, and I'd have you out of my sight for good. Imagine how beautiful the sight would be. You. Lying dead on the ground. So much blood." 

A shiver rippled through him because despite the bad quality of the recording, he could still hear the blatant disgust in his father's tone.

"So many bruises littering your perfect skin, were you beaten to death?" 

Arthur clearly remembered whimpering at this point. And he suddenly felt glad that Alfred had been too far to capture the small sound. He didn't know if he could handle hearing his own desperation, his own weakness.

"You're bent over. I wonder how hard it is to snap a human spine." 

Arthur closed his eyes. It was over after that. He remembered pushing his father away and rushing into the room to find Alfred.

Indeed, there was the sound of an opening door in the video, and lots of shuffling. The screen went black as the camera was dropped on the bed. In the distance, they heard Alfred whispering comforting words to Arthur, and in the middle of his sentence, the video limit ran out and it cut off.

The three sat in silence for a moment, each contemplating their own thoughts. Then, Lily sighed and scribbled something down on her notepad.

"Anything else to report, boys?"

"No." Alfred shook his head along with Arthur.

"Alright. I'm gonna have to keep your cellphone, though, Alfred. Evidence, you know." Lily gently took the phone and snapped it shut.

"No problem. Just do what you can to get that madman in jail, and I'm cool." Alfred replied, tightening his grip on Arthur's shoulder until the latter winced in discomfort.

"We will do everything we can. My brother's the head of the department here, actually, so I can bring him this file myself. That should speed the process up a bit." Lily smiled comfortingly, getting up. The teens imitated her as they went for the door.

"That wasn't so bad, Artie! And now, you're finally done!" Alfred grinned as they exited the room. Arthur managed a small, relieved smile and squeezed Alfred's hand in thanks.

"It was very brave of you to come, Arthur. You too, Alfred." Lily laughed, noticing the disappointed look in Alfred's eyes. "Many abuse victims never muster up the courage to come up and tell the police. I'm glad... I'm glad we could save you." She grinned.

_"Sorry, but you're too late." _

And despite the dark undertone of the little voice in his head, Arthur smiled.

_"That's right, you are too late. Alfred has already saved me, after all." _

"Where are you staying now, Arthur?" Lily suddenly asked as she led them back through the hallways.

"He's crashing in with me until... uhh..." And then, Alfred realized that he didn't _know _what to do about Arthur afterwards.

"You're still a minor, by the looks of it, so you need a family member to take some kind of informal custody of you until you're 18. Do you have anyone in the States?" Lily asked.

Arthur thought back. Most of his 'family', as in all the faceless aunts and uncles from his childhood, lived in Great Britain. Cade had moved to Wales because he had gotten sick of England, and his twin brothers, Liam and Aidan, had been travelling the world, last time he checked. Then, there was Peter, who was much younger than him, and there was Alas-

Oh.

Alasdair.

Alasdair had moved somewhere in Pennsylvania when he'd gotten sick and tired of their father's antics.

That was right next door.

Arthur's breath hitched. He'd found his adult family member.

Hopefully, his brother would consent to coming over.

He didn't think he could survive if he had to move to Pennsylvania.

Because Pennsylvania didn't have Alfred.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

**The scarf:So I was browsing this group on Facebook for strangulation victims as side research, and this one woman had written that even after a year of therapy, she was still afraid of wearing necklaces and scarves. Trauma sticks for a long time, so Arthur's still subconsciously afraid of anything that goes around the neck. The scarf was a big deal to him.**

**Alfred's psych: Alfred's still trying to get Arthur to accept himself, but since Artie's so traumatized, he doesn't know how to act with him. He's not a therapist nor a psychoanalyst, so he's doing whatever he thinks is good. It's not necessarily the RIGHT thing to do, but as long as Arthur looks and acts fine, Alfred's going to believe he's fine. Remember that I want to portray an imperfect side to teenage mentality here.**

**And it's normal for Alfred to have more nightmares than Arthur. Arthur's used to it and moving on, but it's all new to Alfred. You can imagine that Arthur went through the same sleepless nights during the first few months of abuse.**

**The USUK relationship: One of the issue that came up in comments and that deeply upset me when I was writing this on the kink meme was the thought that Alfred is taking advantage of Arthur's vulnerability. I personally don't think he is because the 'stirrings' were mutual even before the accident, and because yes, Arthur does show a small bit of Stockholm Syndrome-ish signs, which is normal, but he's still quite independent. He refused the first time Alfred suggested they go to the police. His tongue is still sharp and sarcastic as ever. And Alfred hasn't forced him to do ANYTHING he doesn't want (the holding hands part was only to help Arthur find his faith in their relationship).**

** But, it's your call. Do you feel like Alfred is taking advantage of Arthur's confusion? Please answer honestly. If you're too embarrassed, anonymous reviews are just as welcome. I just want to know if I've done wrong or not.  
><strong>

**OH, BUT DAT REDUNDANCY. Don't worry, the technical part of the fic is now all over. Enter fluff and smiles~ Speaking of smiles, did you see how I practically raped the word "smiles" this chapter? xD**

**Oh, and you didn't see that cellphone thing coming, did you? (Okay, so maybe you did. It was kinda obvious in chapter 9.)**

**Liam/Aidan: Ireland/Northern Ireland**  
><strong>Cade: Wales<strong>  
><strong>Alasdair: Scotland<strong>

**In my mind, the boys live somewhere in New York. But not the city, more like a smaller town somewhere near the border of Pennsylvania. If something like that exists. This Canadian will forever fail at American geography OTL**

****Anyways, once more, sorry for the huge author's notes, and thanks so much for reading D: Leave a review and I'll be happy? ;w;  
><strong>**


	11. Return

**Author's Notes:**

**People who take the time to review are always first in my heart, so they'll be first in my A/N's~ Thanks a BIG bunch to baconis1priority, sappire495, AFreezingFlame, ForeverHalfa, Pychopathic Robot 9, animefangirl55, Mew Bubblegum, snowbook22, Waytomuchadoaboutnothing, alguien22792, SOSVampire, SpacePotato, Knight-SinisterRose, Pureh, ShadowEntity and SamuraiSal1 for their WONDERFUL EPIC AMAZING ENCOURAGING REVIEWS. I would put a heart here, but FFN doesn't allow the "less than" symbol. So yep. Less than 3, you guys. Less than 3.  
><strong>

**Ah, wonderful. Back to school. Who doesn't love it ._.**

**Alfred's mother looked a bit like fem!America in my head. Like, in her late 30's, early 40's, if I had to put an age on her. As for his dad, I have no idea xD In my head, he's kind of like Sweden, though. Just... a block of flesh and bones that is only mildly responsive to the world and just very emotionless. But he cares, deep inside xD**

**I also want to point out something that is quite important to the understanding of this story (and that someone caught, which I am glad for), and that's Alfred's hero complex. Everyone here knows that Alfred's a hero, right? Well, in his mind he is. In reality, he's only human. So it's important to understand that Alfred WANTS to be Arthur's hero, he WANTS to help him out and save him, but he's only human, and when faced with danger, he's going to get scared, too. He's going to want to have superpowers and make Arthur smile no matter what, but he's also going to be confused and helpless when Arthur has one of his attacks because he doesn't KNOW what to do. He's human, he's a teenager, he's no professional, nor a superhero.  
><strong>

**Anyways. Warnings in this chapter are swearing and slight homophobia. USUK still rules supreme, though~ Enjoy.**

* * *

><p>"Mattie, are you here? We're back!" Alfred yelled as they stepped inside the Jones' household, groceries in their hands. After the trip to the police stations, they'd gone to eat, had paid a visit to the clinic so that Arthur could get properly checked, and had bought a few missing things before heading home. By the time they got back, it was already two hours past the end of school.<p>

But instead of Matthew replying, there was a loud squeal of relief from the living room.

Arthur jumped and clung to Alfred while the latter just grinned.

"ALFRED!"

"MOM!"

And they had barely gotten the time to close the door and put the groceries down before a female figure attacked Alfred, jumping on him and hugging him.

"Oh my god, my little baby boy, you had me so worried, your father and I came home and Matthew said he didn't know where you were and I'm so happy you're okay now-"

"Mom, mom, calm down, you're not making a good impression on Artie." Alfred huffed, pushing his mother off of him while Arthur just watched melancholically.

"Ah, I'm sorry, where are my manners?" The woman laughed nervously, kissing Alfred on the cheek before turning to Arthur. "Hello, Arthur. Nice to finally meet you face to face. I'm Amelia Jones, Alfred's mother." She grinned, shaking Arthur's hand when the boy extended it. "Ah, so polite. Alfred should learn a thing or two from you."

"Mooooom." Alfred whined from behind her, grabbing the groceries and heading towards the kitchen.

"Come, come, let's move inside. It's a bit chilly here, don't you think?" the older woman tugged Arthur towards the kitchen impatiently.

Once they stumbled inside, they were met with the sight of Matthew and his father on the couch, muttering things under their breath as they fixed the TV intently. One look informed Arthur that there was a hockey game on.

"So how did your trip to the police department go?" Alfred's mother asked as if it were nothing, putting the milk away in the refrigerator.

"Awesome! We told them everything, and now they're gonna get the bastard arrested for sure!" Alfred grinned, opening the pantry and grabbing a bag of chips.

"Alfred, language." His mother warned him before sighing in relief. "Well, at least it's all over now... You can finally rest easy, Arthur, huh?" she smiled, putting the eggs in their places.

And for a moment, Arthur lost himself in the illusion of a normal family.

Behind him, Matthew cheered as his team scored. Alfred munched lazily on chips, complaining that hockey was a stupid sport. His mother laughed and started on the dishes. His father fumbled with his Blackberry, probably answering a text from work.

Arthur just stood there, looking misplaced.

Because he didn't belong.

"Hey, Arthur! Don't just stand there, come on!"

"Yeah, Arthur, come watch my team destroy Alfred's favourite team on the TV."

"Shut up, Matthew, you're stupid."

"No, Al, you're stupid."

"Hockey is stupid."

"Your face is stupid."

Not up to now at least.

Arthur couldn't help but smile at their brotherly banter and took a step towards them, feeling much lighter. Amid all this warm normalcy of an average family, he finally felt at home.

"So, Arthur, you're a sweet boy and all, and I certainly don't mind you staying over, but, uhh... What are you going to do with custody issues now that your dad is soon to be arrested?" Alfred's mom asked over dinner.

"He's gonna go on an epic quest to find his brother's phone number and get him to come here from Pennsylvania!" Alfred grinned, mouth full of chicken.

"Alfred, no talking with your mouth full." Amelia sighed hopelessly. "So... You're calling your brother?"

_**"Yes. Unlike what Alfred suggested, though, I can easily find his phone number in my laptop archives." **_

"But that ruins the fun of an epic quest." Alfred pouted.

Arthur rolled his eyes and erased his message with a Kleenex.

"Where are you two staying, then?" she asked again.

Arthur swallowed his bite thoughtfully, shivers running across his skin when the answer emerged in his mind.

_**"In dad's apartment, I guess. We don't have anywhere else to stay." **_

"Can't they stay with us, mom?" Alfred butted in, as expected.

Arthur's eyes widened, and he quickly erased his message.

"Both of them?"

"Yeah, why not?"

_**"Please, no need to concern yourselves with that. We can just go back to dad's apartment." **_

"I promised I'd never let you go back there, Artie. I'm not gonna break my promise now." Alfred shook his head, adopting his Constipated-Alfred-Voice almost immediately.

_**"I really don't want to impose or anything." **_

But by the way Arthur's hands were shaking as he scribbled his message, everyone around the table could guess that he'd rather camp out in a dark alley downtown than go back to his old apartment.

"No, it's fine, I guess. You two can stay here until everything is sorted out." Amelia smiled gently. "Is that okay, James?"

"It won't bother me." The quiet man shrugged, patting his mouth with his napkin.

"Awesome! Thanks mom, dad! I love you!" Alfred cheered as Arthur's eyes widened.

_**"You really don't have to..." **_

"No buts, Artie! You're stuck here with us, and that's final!"

_**"Okay... I promise we'll stay out of your way. We can sleep in the basement and leave during the day. I can't cook very well, but I can clean. And Alasdair's pretty good with his hands, so" **_

"Oh my." Amelia chuckled, gently putting her palm on Arthur's whiteboard to keep him from writing any more. "We can't have you acting like that, Arthur. You're our guest, so no need to act like some servant in a lord's mansion or anything."

"Yeah, you're my boyfriend, Artie! You're special to me, and by extension, to my folks, too!"

"And me..."

"And Mattie, but he's not important."

"Thanks, Al. Thanks."

"Alfred's right, though. You're his boyfriend, that's an important fact." Alfred's father added.

"Yes, and that, by default, makes us your temporary family, too." His mother laughed and ruffled Arthur's hair, making his eyes go wide.

Family...?

He couldn't even remember the last time he'd pronounced that word. About a decade had passed since he'd felt anything even remotely close to the feeling of family. Joy welled up in his shock-frozen heart.

"Yeah." Alfred grinned, making Arthur look up. He was faced with 4 faces brightly looking at him, smiling warmly. "Welcome to the family, Arthur."

The shock was so great that Arthur became unresponsive until the next morning.

_...OOOOOOOOOO..._

Alfred was shaken awake the next morning by a pair of familiar hands. Yawning and groaning, he rolled around to come face to face with Arthur, already dressed in his school uniform.

"Whazzaaa'?" he gaped, watching as Arthur sighed and pulled the covers off of him. "HEY! NOT COOL, MAN!" Alfred yelped, curling up in a ball to help keep himself warm.

Arthur stuck a tongue out at him and threw his uniform at him.

"And here I thought I could sneak another day off with you..." Alfred yawned, slowly getting out of bed.

Arthur raised a brow and shook his head firmly.

"Hmm, you're such an uptight Brit." Alfred yawned, going to the bathroom.

_**"And you, a lazy-ass American." **_

Alfred read his reply blearily, and chuckled, rubbing his eyes.

"Nice to have you back, Arthur Kirkland."

If Arthur could have spoken, he definitely would have said something like 'glad to be back, you big idiot'.

After Alfred was done changing, they both headed down for breakfast, surprising everyone.

"Alfred? Why are you up so early?" his mother blinked in confusion, flipping an egg in her pan. His father looked up from the newspaper and threw him an incredulous look.

"My alarm clock was set early." Alfred groaned, patting Arthur on the shoulder. Arthur crossed his arms and smirked.

"Oh... wow. I think that deserves to be commended. You actually got Alfred to get up thirty minutes before the start of class. I'm impressed, Arthur. Good job." His mother laughed, making the Brit feel all warm and happy inside. In his point of view, they were still running late, but the Jones' residence was located about 10 minutes away from school by foot. They'd make it for sure.

"Sit down for breakfast so we can leave soon." Matthew muttered, still half-asleep as he curled his hand around his mug of coffee.

"Hmm... Gimme some of that." Alfred yawned, grabbing Matthew's cup of coffee and taking a large gulp.

"Hey! Get your own!" the younger pouted, taking his half-empty cup back when Alfred put it down to swallow.

"Hmm... Nope, yours always tastes better." Alfred hummed, grabbing some toast out of the toaster and munching on it.

Arthur just smiled at the homey, everyday scene unfolding in front of him and silently accepted an egg sandwich from Mrs Jones.

"So how are you gonna do in school today, Artie?" Alfred asked once he sat down at the table.

_**"I have a lot of presidential work to do. I'll probably ask to be dismissed and work in my office all day long." **_

"Lucky." Alfred complained. "But I'll take notes for you."

Arthur just smiled wearily and took a sip of tea.

Alfred grinned and mimicked the motion with his cup of coffee, giddily noting that the bags under Arthur's eyes looked a little less horrible.

Of course, the bags wouldn't go away that quickly, but Arthur was obviously getting a lot of rest, so in his eyes, the dark circles had all but disappeared already.

Everything was going perfectly.

_...OOOOOOOOOOO..._

As soon as they entered the vicinity of the school grounds, Arthur made a move to slip his gloved hand out of Alfred's. Alfred kept his grip strong and gave him a pointed look.

"We've been over this before." he huffed, tugging Arthur towards the front entrance.

Arthur frantically shook his head and tried to plant his feet, which didn't work very well because of the frost on the ground.

"I don't know what you're afraid of, but don't be." Alfred continued, going up the stairs to the main entrance, pulling a very unwilling Arthur along with him.

Arthur shook his head and looked down in shame again. It's not like he didn't want to hold Alfred's hand... He just didn't want people to make fun of them. He didn't want people to make fun of Alfred.

Alfred didn't know why he looked so uneasy, but decided to show him that he had no reason to be. Holding the door open, he ushered Arthur inside, into the warmth of the building.

As soon as they entered, they got looks. Whether it was from the students loitering in the main hall or the teachers bustling around to get to class, a couple of stares were thrown their way. Arthur tried once again to break their hands apart, but Alfred held strong and kept walking with his head high. By the time they'd made it across the hall to where their lockers were, a kind of hushed silence hung over their heads.

Alfred walked Arthur to his locker, then left to pack his stuff for the day. Now alone, Arthur tried to ignore the dirty looks thrown at him as he opened his locker and stripped down to his uniform.

He pulled his precious whiteboard out and put it on the ground, stuffing his bag with all the work he had to get done. He was about to zip his bag when a shadow befell his form.

Figuring it was Alfred because of the larger form, Arthur rose up to greet him only to come face to face with one of Alfred's football friends.

"Hey, Kirkland." The guy smirked, leaning on one hand against the locker.

Arthur eyed him warily and continued preparing his schoolbag wordlessly.

"You look like shit. Like, with those bags under your eyes and your arms bandaged and those bruises on your neck."

Arthur self-consciously pulled the collar of his uniform higher to conceal what little bruises were still visible. Having buttoned up to the top, there wasn't much to see, but a couple of bruises still peeked out from the top. He had also let the makeup go because Alfred had insisted that he looked fine without any of it.

(Well, he didn't really believe him, but didn't push the issue, either.)

"So anyways, I wanted to ask." The football jock took a step closer to Arthur, causing him to shuffle away a bit. "Why were you holding Alfred's hand this morning like some sappy chick?"

Arthur glared at him and promptly decided that he wasn't up for teasing in the morning. So he just flipped him the middle finger and went back to arranging his books.

What he didn't expect was a hand fisting itself in his uniform and slamming him back against a locker. A silent cry of surprise escaped his lips, and his head ached where he'd hit it beforehand.

"Answer me when I talk to you, Kirkland." The jock seethed. "Why the fuck were you acting so fucking queer with Jones this morning?"

Arthur just settled for trying to pry the hand off of him, lips stubbornly pressed into a thin line.

"Hey! Answer me, goddamnit!"

"He'll answer you if he feels like it."

Arthur's struggles immediately stopped and he raised his gaze past the football jock holding him against the locker. Seeing his stare, the older guy turned around as well, coming face to face with a murderous pair of blue eyes.

"Let him go, dude." Alfred calmly asked, his eyes betraying the fury he actually felt inside.

"Whatever." The guy just shoved Arthur again, letting him go. Arthur immediately smoothed his uniform, frowning.

"And for the record." Alfred smiled all-too-sweetly, gently putting his hands on Arthur's shoulders. "We were holding hands because we're going out now."

If the jock had anything to say about that, he didn't. He just turned around and left.

"You okay?" Alfred asked, helping him fix his uniform.

_**"Yes, now please don't act like you're my mum. I can take care of myself." **_

"Hmmm, okay. But tell me if you ever need anything, okay?" Alfred chuckled, patting Arthur's hair. Arthur growled lowly (to the entire family's delight, Arthur was starting to regain the ability to make low, small noises again) and swatted his hand away irritably.

_**"I'd rather if you didn't dote upon me so. You have yourself to take care of, first." **_

"Ah, so British." Alfred squeezed Arthur against him in a hug, from which Arthur immediately untangled himself, blushing horribly. "Don't worry, luv." He laughed, making Arthur cringe with his horrible imitation of a British accent. "You're my boyfriend, so of course I'll dote on you. I love you too much to leave you in a careless relationship."

To which Arthur just rolled his eyes and picked his bag up. Alfred made himself useful by closing and locking the padlock on his locker, and then walked briskly to catch up after him as they headed for their first class.

Arthur went through the first and second classes well enough, ignoring the whispers around him as people noted his appearance and the way he interacted with Alfred. Their third class, arts and drama, though, required him to speak up, so he took up the occasion to show the teacher his note (courtesy of Mrs Jones) and got excused.

His office felt strangely unfamiliar as he stepped inside, closing his door. The air was stale and papers were strewn everywhere. Always a neat freak, Arthur worked on cleaning up and only got to sit down for actual work by the end of third period.

And as usual, he didn't get far because five minutes later, someone burst into his office. Arthur looked up pointedly, rolling his eyes when a certain hyperactive American sauntered over to his desk and leaned over to kiss him passionately.

When they broke away, Arthur raised a brow, wondering what had Alfred in such a good mood.

As if guessing his inner questioning, Alfred grinned.

"No reason! I just kinda had this epiphany thing in drama class that everything's back to normal now and it feels awesome!" his eyes sparkled with mirth, drawing a smirk out of Arthur.

_**"Your obliviousness astounds me sometimes, Jones." **_

"Yeah, I love you too, babe!"

_**"Alright, get to class before I do something drastic." **_Arthur smiled, putting up the budget papers for the football team.

"Aye aye, Capt'n! I'll be back to eat lunch with you later!" Alfred grinned and turned around to go for the door. "Bye, Artie!" he yelled before exiting.

Arthur barely had time to sigh in content and wonder how Alfred managed being so happy when the door swung open again, showing Alfred's grinning face.

"Oh, and the football team needs new shoulder pads, see if you can fit that somewhere, pretty-please?"

Arthur nodded fondly and waved him off, a smile gracing his tired face when Alfred laughed and left for good. Once everything had quieted down, he found himself drawn back to his work, signing papers and calculating budgets without the smile ever leaving his face.

_...OOOOOOOOOOOOO..._

As expected, Alfred burst into Arthur's office five minutes past the lunch bell, immediately plopping down on the couch against the wall.

"So how's work coming along?" he asked, shuffling through his backpack for his lunch.

Arthur shrugged and continued reading the paper he was working on. Curious as ever, Alfred inched up behind him and read along.

"I think the kids'll want to eat stuff like pigs in blankets as hot food for the winter dance." He commented, slurping on the soda he'd bought from the cafeteria a while ago.

Arthur looked up at him, raising a brow, then turned back down and noted the suggestions on the paper.

Happy to have helped, Alfred grinned brightly.

"And those girls that are always like 'oh my gooood, hot dogs will make me like sooo fat, maybe I shouldn't eat anything at all~' obviously won't eat those, so you can have cut up veggies and dip. And chips. Everyone loves chips. I would've liked hamburgers, too, but they'd cost too much, although I know this one store that has two burgers for a dollar and you could have-"

Alfred was suddenly cut off by a hand in his face, blinking dumbly as he watched Arthur write down his more plausible ideas with a pleased smile. Heart soaring, he took Arthur's wrist and kissed his knuckles before setting his hand back down.

_**"Any more bright ideas?" **_

"Triangle sandwiches. With cold cuts. No veggies inside. Or shredded Caesar chicken sandwiches. Or spam."

_**"Spam?" **_

"Yeah. Something Posing As Meat. You know, those unidentifiable blocks of protein that kinda somewhat taste like meat and that come in cans?" Alfred shrugged as if it were common knowledge.

Arthur winced but shook his head. He was looking for cheap food, not a way to poison the entire grade. Still, little triangle sandwiches were good ideas, so he noted that down, too.

"And have soda for drinks. Like, lots of Coke and Sprite. And a punch bowl! It'll be just like in those cheesy movies where the guy gets punch for the girl but accidentally spills it on her somehow." He laughed, slurping more soda.

Arthur nodded and sighed, turning around and glaring at Alfred.

_**"Alfred, love, I know you're trying to help, and you're doing great, but please refrain from slurping that liquefied sugar drink so obnoxiously so close to me." **_

"I don't know what you're talking about." Alfred shrugged, slurping more soda and making Arthur cringe.

Although, knowing he could never win this battle, Arthur hopelessly waved him off towards the couch and looked back down at his papers.

"You're putting a lot of effort in this, Artie." Alfred commented, still looking over his shoulder as he looked through a list of possible caterers.

_**"Of course I am. Wouldn't want to be known as the worst student council president ever." **_

"Don't worry about that, Gilbert is practically unbeatable in that field after that really short term he did last year. Remember, he kept skipping out on all his duties and organized the homecoming dance three days before the actual date? Can't get any worse than that." Alfred laughed. "So don't worry. You'll do great."

Arthur just looked up at him gratefully and smiled.

_**"Thanks. Now let me work and go eat your lunch." **_

"You shouldn't skip out of food either, Artie. Remember what Eliza said?" Alfred shrugged, circling his desk and going back to the sofa. "Besides, mom packed lunch for you, too, and let me warn you now, she isn't happy whenever someone doesn't finish her food."

Arthur didn't comment and kept looking through the catering list. Alfred rolled his eyes and walked back, holding two brown paper bags in his hands.

"Here. This one's yours." He put it down right on Arthur's papers, eliciting a low growl from him.

_**"Listen, I appreciate this, but I have work to do, so please don't bother me." **_

"B-B-But..." Alfred crouched in front of the desk, only letting his pouting face peek out from the front. "I j-just wanted to h-help you..."

Arthur blinked at him in confusion, trying to find a reason why Alfred, of all people, could pull off such a perfect kicked-puppy look. There were fake tears massed at the corner of his wide eyes, and his lower lip was trembling, cheeks flushed and nose twitching occasionally.

Arthur sighed and dug his face in his hands. He gently motioned for Alfred to come to his side with his hand and leaned up to give him a hug when he did. He spent a couple of seconds threading his fingers through his boyfriend's lovely flaxen hair and smelling that special scent of burgers, watermelon shampoo and everything that was simply _Alfred _before letting him go and glaring.

_**"Next time you pull that face, I'll hit you. I promise you that." **_

And both knew very well that with Arthur's current developments, he wasn't keen on breaking promises he made.

"I got my hourly dose of cavities already, so I won't be pulling it off anymore for at least the next 60 minutes." Alfred laughed obnoxiously, digging through his paper bag and pulling out a roast beef sandwich. "Still, don't skip out on lunch unless you want me to feed you!" he shoved the sandwich in Arthur's face, dropping a few pieces on his work papers.

Eyeing the newly-made grease stains on his stuff, Arthur sighed in desperation and took the sandwich before Alfred could completely destroy his entire stack of work. Alfred just grinned and watched him eat for a minute before picking up the other bag and following his example.

"Teacher wants you in class after lunch, by the way." Alfred suddenly piped up in between two bites of his sandwich.

Arthur swallowed his bite and raised his brow in confusion.

"Yeah, she said you need to be there for the new stuff she'll be teaching us in light of the December exams."

Arthur rolled his eyes and nodded. It wasn't like he had a choice, anyways. He'd just have to leave some stuff for Francis in his office and hope that he would do it on time.

"I'll accompany you, okay? We'll go get your books from your locker and go to class together." Alfred suggested, wolfing down his food and reaching inside his paper bag for a box of juice.

Arthur nodded again and looked back down, keen on finishing as much work as possible.

Noticing that Arthur wasn't in the mood to communicate, Alfred shrugged and looked around for something to busy himself with until the Brit finished his lunch.

Despite the fact that Alfred kept making paper boats out of all his important documents, Arthur somehow advanced in his planning far enough to let him rest easy for the remainder of the day.

_...OOOOOOOOOOOOO..._

Saying that Arthur wasn't aware of the whispers surrounding him when he walked in class with Alfred would be a lie.

Saying he wasn't affected by them would also have been a lie.

But saying that he kept his head high and braved them nonetheless would describe what really happened perfectly.

Alfred had a large grin on his face by the time he walked Arthur to his seat in math class and stayed with him until the bell rang, announcing the start of class.

The teacher immediately lapsed into explanations on stuff they needed to know for the winter exams, but Arthur couldn't concentrate much. Stares were still being thrown at him and Alfred, who was way too busy paying attention to notice, and it made him nervous.

He shifted in his seat, looking down and pulling out his notebook. His grades would drop if he didn't learn anything in class, and the last thing he wanted to be was a disappointment.

Still, his pen froze in the middle of his first sentence when the guy next to him whispered to the girl sitting in front of him.

"So rumours are going around that Alfred's gay."

The girl's eyes widened, and she leaned in.

"What? For real? With whom?"

"I don't know. I just heard people talking in the hallway."

_"You shouldn't always believe what people say."_Arthur wanted to object, but remembered that his voice had yet to heal. He hated this, not being able to fight for Alfred when Alfred was doing everything for him already. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe he really was worthless if he couldn't even defend the boy who was sacrificing his life for him.

"Ask around. Maybe his friends know." The girl suggested in a whisper, making Arthur's blood run cold. Oh no. At this rate, everyone would find out, and-

"Mary! Anthony! Is there anything you'd like to share with the class?" the teacher suddenly screeched from the front, making everyone jump.

"Uh, not really. Sorry." Anthony scratched his head and looked down, ashamed. Despite what he said, though, everyone was aware of what they obviously were talking about.

"Well, maybe he doesn't, but I do."

All eyes went wide in curiosity as they turned towards the guy in the back, who stood up and glared at Alfred. Alfred raised a brow in confusion and stared right back.

"This isn't the time. Sit back down before I-"

"No, Ma'am, this is important." The guy frowned. "So by now, everyone knows Alfred is gay."

Whispers went around, the rare people who weren't aware shuffling around to listen to other's conversations.

"But no one knows with who, right?"

More shuffling. Arthur and Alfred froze, gazes locking nervously. Arthur's more than Alfred's.

"Listen to me, if you don't sit down right now-"

"But I do."

"Alright, that's enough! One more word out of you and it's detention!"

"Arthur Kirkland, huh? Didn't know you had an accent kink, Alfie boy."

And just like that, Arthur found himself sinking to the seventh layer of hell all over again.

All eyes turned to him, loud whispers trying to worm themselves into his ears. He blushed brightly and looked down, resisting the temptation to bury his head under his arms.

"That's very well enough, you hear me? Two hours of detention for you tomorrow!" the teacher screamed.

A heavy silence fell across the room, and not even a whisper crossed the atmosphere. All eyes were on either Arthur or Alfred.

And suddenly, a chair was pushed noisily.

"And so fucking what if I am dating him?"

The look in Alfred's eyes could only be described as murderous. Arthur shivered and lowered his gaze again, too ashamed to look up. Alfred was obliged to protect him again. He hated being so weak.

"You're fucking gay, Jones. That's not right." The boy spat across the room.

"Boys, stop it right this instant, or it's definite detention for the both of you!"

"Yeah, well, love doesn't have a right or wrong!" Alfred shot back, pouting childishly.

"You're deluding yourself, Jones! You should only date hot girls with big tits, not scrawny boys with anger issues!"

"You're so fucking shallow, it's disgusting!" Alfred spat back, clenching his fists.

"THAT'S ENOUGH, BOTH OF YOU! DETENTION!"

And no one dared argue after that.

"I swear to god, both of you are in major trouble! Tomorrow, after school, 3 hours!" the teacher screamed. "I can't believe how immature you two are being!"

The boys just glared at each other and sat down tensely while the teacher just kept going on and on about disrespect and swearing in class.

Between all this tension, Arthur somehow found the strength to reach into his bag and bring out his stack of detention papers. Shakily, he scribbled the name of the guy who was now glaring at him as well and wrote down 'harassment' and 'disrespect' under the reasons. Hopefully, the principal would acknowledge his request for extra time.

And at this point, he didn't care if the footballs jocks hated him for what he was doing, because they already hated him enough. He just felt like it was time he did something for Alfred, too.

There was sudden knocking at the door, and the teacher stopped her rant to go open it.

"Uh, oh, hi!" the small teen at the door mumbled, shaking. "I-uhh... The principal sent me to get Arthur Kirkland and Alfred Jones. H-He wants to see them in his office right now."

"Oh thank god, maybe we'll finally be able to proceed with the lesson now." The woman sighed, motioning to Alfred and Arthur. "Just go, boys, don't keep the principal waiting."

Alfred and Arthur looked at each other and grabbed their bags, eager to leave the tense atmosphere of the class. They didn't look back at all as they exited.

"So why do you think Mr Vargas called us?" Alfred asked, leading their walk.

Arthur shrugged, then pointed to his bruised throat, covered by his collar.

"True. I hope they've finally made progress on your case." Alfred nodded and gently took his head, smiling. "Hey, come on, I wanna know what's going on!" he rushed, pulling him along.

Arthur wasn't sure if he wanted to know, but hey, it couldn't be that bad. He'd just gone through a buttload of trials and had many more in front of him, so he surely could have a reprieve just this once, right?

... Right?

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

**Ah, spam. Who doesn't love it? (I don't. That stuff's weird ._.)**

****Still, that was... so cliché, it burned my eyes. *sob*****

**Arthur's detention slips are little papers on which the president can write down names to "recommend" detention. You give it to a higher up, and they decide whether the causes listed require punishment or not.**

**Anyways, yeah, here we go for the last stretch before the end ._. I counted the number of chapters, and in total, there are 18. Hooray, we still have a ways to go together :D Sooo... please review and gimme your thoughts? :') Pretty-prease? C:**


	12. Lose

**Author's Notes:**

**I think I've already mentioned how you guys make my life with your comments. Oh well, I'll say it again. Big thanks to SamuraiSal1, Canada Cowboy, TheAmazingAl, Angel of the Midnight Sea, intricate-bindings, Waytomuchadoaboutnothing, Sobubbles1, Pychopathic Robot 9, Trumpet-Geek, Foreverhalfa, FoolishLittleDuck, ShadowEntity, animefangirl55, SOSVampire, Izu3039, Pureh and SpacePotato for their epic reviews. Love them all, despite having tiredly replied to them at 2AM xD Pfffft, I'll go sleep now U_U  
><strong>

**Sooo... Ummm yeah. First things first, let me say that I have NO idea and NO interest whatsoever in the functioning of legal procedures. So basically, anything that has to do with police and law: I give up. Which kinda sucks cause I really needed the knowledge to write this chapter, but oh well. FUCK THIS. THIS. IS. FANFICTIOOOON. (I've said that before... D: )**

**So yes, that's basically to say that this is all the fail!legalconsequences you're gonna get in this story. I don't even know how custody works. And honestly, I don't wanna know cause law bores the hell out of me. No offense to any lawyers/aspiring lawyers who are reading this ._. **

**And yes, this is actually a warning for legal inaccuracies. And a warning for how the author doesn't give a damn anymore about them because she's been demoralized and turned off from ever researching law again. **

**Anonymous question reply: Alasdair's... coming very soon. And unfortunately, no, we won't be seeing any other UK bros than Scotland :C Sorry~  
><strong>

**Buuut... the only 'serious' warning for the chapter is swearing. The end C:**

* * *

><p>"Boys, come in, come in." A heavily Italian voice called as Alfred knocked on the principal's door. When they opened it, they came face to face with the young principal, smiling as he toyed with a curly lock of hair.<p>

"Good afternoon, Mr Vargas." Alfred greeted, holding the door open for Arthur before closing it tightly.

"Good afternoon, boys. Take a seat, will you?" the principal offered, waving to the two chairs in front of his desk.

Arthur nervously took a seat, waiting for Alfred to sit, too, before he slid his hand on Alfred's knee. Alfred didn't react past gently setting his hand down on Arthur's and clenching lightly.

"Alright, so you must be wondering why I called you two." Nod. "Well, truth is, I got a call from your parents, Alfred. The police contacted them about Arthur's current situation, and they need you two home right now. The police has issued the official warrant for your father's arrest, Arthur, so you need to head back to confirm everything."

"Oh." Alfred blinked, stealing the simple sentence right out of Arthur's mouth.

"Yes, well, it should be no problem, really, as I'm told. You boys are almost done with this all. I'm so happy everything is turning out fine." The principal sighed in content. "Still, you should have told us before about your problems at home, Arthur. Nurse Eliza gave me your latest health report, too, and it doesn't seem that you've been treating yourself too well."

Arthur looked away and frowned, refusing to show how disgusted he was with himself, with his past self.

"Still, everything's working out now, so don't worry. Just remember that there's help for you everywhere, okay, Arthur?" Mr Vargas smiled lazily, looking kindly at his students.

Arthur still refused to meet his gaze.

The phone suddenly rang, which the principal eyed before picking up.

"Hello~" he toyed with the cord, elongating his last syllable.

There was quick, prompt chattering from the other line and Mr Vargas laughed.

"Ah, perfect. I'll send them over." He replied and gently closed the phone, turning to face the curious teens. "Alright, well, your parents are here to pick you up, so just take all your stuff from your lockers and head down to the reception. Mr Beilschmidt will be waiting to let you out." He informed them.

"Thanks so much, Mr Vargas." Alfred grinned, getting up and letting go on Arthur's hand. Arthur quickly straightened and nodded as a wordless thanks.

"It's no problem, really. I'm here if you need anything else." The principal chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Good day to you~"

"Bye!" Alfred waved and walked to the door. Arthur barely had time to hand the principal the detention request slip he'd written in class before Alfred called him.

An unsaid plea went through Arthur's eyes, to which the principal's eyes replied by lighting up gently. A promise.

Arthur smiled lightly and nodded again before running out after Alfred. The principal watched them leave with a bright smile and waved as they closed the door.

His smile gave place to a sombre, worried expression when the door clicked shut.

_...OOOOOOOOOOOO..._

"Mom? Dad?" Alfred blinked in surprise as the teens ran up to Alfred's parents' car. "Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"I know, honey, but we received a call from the police station. Get in, we'll talk on the way home." Amelia pointed to the back, to which Alfred replied by shoving the door open and practically dragging Arthur inside.

"So what's up?" Alfred asked as the car started again.

"The arrest warrant has been issued to arrest your father, Arthur, but before everything's over, your brother has to come here and show that he's ready to 'take custody' of you. It's not really an official move since you're almost legal, now, but the police just wants to see if you have a safety net below you." Alfred's dad informed him with that deep, affectionate voice of his.

"Everything's pretty much over now, so we just need you to call your brother as soon as possible. You said he lives somewhere in Pennsylvania, so it would make the case easier if you could contact him and he could come by tomorrow morning, maximum. The police station said they want to arrest your father before tomorrow midnight." Amelia finished kindly, taking a turn to their street.

"So why are you two out of work?" Alfred asked curiously, crossing his arms and raising his brow.

"Well, someone had to bail you two out of school, mister." Amelia raised a brow back and smirked at him through the mirror. "And we were both contacted because we're Arthur's replacement family until his brother gets here. I have to set the house up for their stay, anyways."

"And I... pulled some strings inside the police station so they could get the warrant out quicker." Alfred's father typed something on his Blackberry. "You know, old debts to be settled, and all."

"Aw man, dad, you're too cool!" Alfred cheered from the back, extending his hand to the front and knuckle-bumping his father, whose lips twitched upwards a bit at the move.

Arthur felt a swell of jealousy at how close their relationship was, then sighed in sadness. All this, just for him. And he still hadn't done anything to repay them.

_**"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dragged you all in this. I'm really sorry." **_he shakily scribbled on the marker board he faithfully carried in his hands at all times.

"Hmm?" Alfred leaned over and snatched the board away, reading the message and furrowing his brows. "Moooooom. Arthur's apologizing needlessly again." He whined, showing the board to his mother and father in the front.

"Alfred, get that away from me, I'm driving. And Arthur, if you don't stop apologizing right now, I will hit you. Really. No need to apologize. You've done nothing wrong."

And if this were any other abused person, they probably would have lapsed into a panic attack at Mrs Jones' words. But Arthur couldn't find it in himself to hate these people for all they did for him. The playfulness and gentleness with which they all spoke to him made him feel so comfortable that the words didn't even matter much.

Deep inside, he knew that they would never hurt him, and that he could never hate them.

"Alright, hop off and let's get this issue resolved once and for all." Mrs Jones declared, parking the car in front of their house.

"Alright. Artie and I will find his brother's phone number and call him. Don't bother us, kay?" Alfred decided, helping Arthur out of the car.

"Alright. We'll be inside all day long today if you need any of us." James informed him, still typing on his Blackberry. Alfred didn't seem at all bothered by the lack of eye contact and grinned.

"Thanks, dad." He took the keys from his mom's hands and led Arthur's to the front door.

They were in and had shed their coats in a minute, and were already going up to Alfred's room by the time his parents came in.

"So how are you gonna find his phone number, Artie?" Alfred asked, watching as Arthur grabbed his laptop from his desk and turned it on.

_**"I'm pretty sure I put it in a document on my laptop a few years ago." **_

"Wow. Let's hope it's still there, then, huh?" Alfred commented, looking over Arthur's shoulder as he entered the password and waited for his desktop to load.

Arthur just nodded and glared at the screen as it that would make the number pop up.

Once the desktop was loaded, Arthur immediately opened a search engine and typed his first hypothesis in.

"Try that file." Alfred suggested, poking the screen at a file labelled "numbers".

Arthur clicked on it and tried not to look too disappointed when it turned out to be some math homework from the beginning of the year.

"What if you added a date to the search details?" Alfred suggested. "Can't you ask it to check for files edited before, like, a couple of years or something?"

Arthur shrugged and tried, but the option was not available.

Alfred made a 'tch' noise behind him and bit his lip. Looks like they'd have to go through all of them.

At some point, Alfred's mom came in to ask them if they were okay, but they just nodded wordlessly. The search for the mysterious file was starting to put strain on Arthur's mind, because if he didn't find it in his computer, he knew he hadn't written it anywhere else.

A ball of nervousness knotted in his throat and he bit his lip as he closed another document without any leads.

As for Alfred, well, he was having fun. Of course, he was nervous with their operation, but just seeing the file names Arthur had for his documents made it up. He didn't think anything could beat that one file named 'HOLY BLOODY FUCK THERE'S A FRIGGIN UNICORN EATING MY SCREEN' and that was actually just a 200-word essay he had to write last year.

_**"I'm starting to feel a little hopeless." **_Arthur typed in one of the documents he'd opened.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't give up, Artie! Maybe we just have to dig deeper. Besides, doesn't it bring back memories to browse through all your old stuff again? Especially with special names such as theirs?" Alfred laughed, ruffling Arthur's hair lovingly.

_**"I don't want to remember." **_

_"Because I'm moving on." _

"Still, I'm sure it's hidden here somewhere. Are you sure you don't have it on USB?"

_**"I don't own a USB key, nor a memory card." **_

"Try digging through your recycle bin."

_**"I cleaned it out last week." **_

"Ah, I never clean mine out." Alfred scratched his head, out of ideas. "Well, uhh... I guess we can search by date. Try to find all the files that were edited in the very first year that you got the laptop."

Arthur sighed tiredly and complied, immediately getting a list of about seventy files. Twelve of them were pictures, two of them were movie maker projects and six of them were powerpoint presentations. That left about 50 files to browse through.

Arthur and Alfred winced simultaneously and sighed in defeat as Arthur opened the first file and closed it immediately again.

"You're sure you don't know what you named it?" Alfred asked quietly, looking at all the weird, extremely long titles Arthur had given his files on a whim ('I feel like a cheese and jam sandwich with tomato spread. I wonder if we have any in the fridge' was actually the name of a document he'd made for his project about famine in southern countries in ninth grade. Awkward).

_**"With titles such as these, I'm not sure I could find the file I edited last. It seemed like a good idea to name them by whatever crossed my mind at the time, okay?" **_Arthur typed in jerkily, then closed the documents to try again.

"Hmm..." Alfred sighed, scrolling the list of weird titles thoughtlessly. There was this one title talking about bananas, another about how rain sucked, another on how unicorns should not be trusted because they attempt to steal your spleen when you're sleeping, another about how rejected and alone he felt and how he hated him but wanted him to come back, another about a cat running in space...

...

"Open that one." He suggested, pointing at the one he'd read before the space cat. For some reason, it was giving off uncomfortable vibes.

Arthur blinked and followed his finger to the file labelled 'I hate you for leaving but please come back I'm so alo...'. The rest was hidden because it was too long. His eyes darkened, and he hesitated for a second before clicking on it.

Sure enough, the file that popped up held a long phone number on its second line, the first having a sentence occupying it.

'As if I'd ever call you after you abandoned me, you bloody idiot.'

There was a pregnant pause as Arthur gazed wistfully at the first sentence. Meanwhile, Alfred read the title now that it was imprinted in full at the top of the document. His hand unconsciously tightened itself around the covers on his bed and he gritted his teeth.

'I hate you for leaving but please come back I'm so alone I don't wanna stay let me come with you why did you leave why did you take Peter why not me why do you hate me I don't hate you please come back don't leave me here'.

Alfred's heart wrenched, and he thanked the program for having word limits on the titles. He didn't think he could handle any more of Arthur's written rant. And they both knew who he had been so upset about.

"I'll go get the phone." Alfred finally announced, getting up and leaving the room.

As soon as he was gone, Arthur shut his eyes and clenched his fist, trying to suppress memories of more unpleasant times. Times when he remembered locking himself in his room and crying on for days on end, begging his big brother to come back. He'd been so young, couldn't understand why his big brother and daddy kept yelling at each other and saying bad words, couldn't understand why his big brother took baby Peter one day and just left, couldn't understand why his big brother left him alone with his mean dad.

He'd been, what, seven? Eight, when it happened? Alasdair had left him his cellphone number on a paper. Arthur remembered throwing the paper in the trash bin in his rage after he found out he'd left. When he got a laptop as a birthday present from one of his rich aunts for his tenth birthday, though, he'd randomly found the paper again, lying under his bed, and had saved the number in a file to keep preciously forever.

It was only when he actually realized the meaning of the word abandonment a bit later that he'd changed the title to his rant.

Reality rushed back as he opened his eyes and blinked before his eyes could even get the idea to start watering. His mouse went over to the file properties button, and he right clicked it to rename the document. His fingers trembled as they hovered over the keys, and he jerkily erased the entire rant in the title before writing a smaller, more sensible one that made a lot more sense to him now.

'I'm sorry. I love you. Please come back, big brother.'

He sighed and saved the title, feeling nostalgia wash over him as he did. Thankfully, Alfred chose that moment exactly to walk in, holding a phone.

"Here. Open a blank document" because he couldn't stand looking at the document with the phone number on it and- Had the title just changed? "and type in whatever you want me to tell him. It'll go faster than you manually writing."

Arthur nodded and opened a blank page while Alfred turned the phone on and handed it to him. Arthur shakily took the phone and looked back and forth from the numbers on the screen. They felt like they were beckoning him, but hissing at him at the same time. Like they wanted him to call, but didn't want him to call, either. He gulped down and tried to calm his beating heart.

Before even he knew what he'd done, the numbers had been punched in, the phone had been put on speaker, and the dial tone had started ringing.

Arthur fumbled with the phone and dropped it on Alfred's bed in a sudden panic as there was a click on the other line.

Alfred wearily eyed him, then picked the phone up in his hands. Heart soaring in anticipation, Arthur grabbed his laptop and put his fingers on the keys nervously.

Alfred smiled encouragingly at him as the first word was said.

"'ello, this is Alasdair Kirkland speaking."

Arthur took a sudden breath, hearing the long lost voice again. Even with telephone static in the way, he recognized it. The heavy Scottish accent had died a bit throughout all the years, but it was still strong enough to prove that they'd reached the right person.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

Arthur nodded numbly, staring at the phone anxiously.

"Yes, hello." Alfred finally answered for him.

"Greetings. Who is this?"

"My name's Alfred F Jones, and I'm calling on behalf of your brother." Alfred started, worriedly looking at Arthur as his stare froze on the phone.

"My broth-"

"Yes, Arthur Kirkland, your younger brother."

And then, there was silence.

Arthur moved to say something, anything, but did not find his lost voice. His brother would probably not remember him anyways...

"Arthur... Oh, bratty little Artie, you mean." The other man laughed, making Arthur blush. "Wow, it's been such a long time since I've heard from him. What, ten years?" there was a sigh. "May I talk to him?"

Arthur's breath caught itself in his throat, and he guiltily looked down at the covers.

"Actually, he can't talk. I'll be voicing what he wants to say." Alfred muttered.

"Huh? And why's that? Ain't I allowed to hear my little brother's voice anymore?" the tone got defensive.

"No, actually, it's because he's completely lost his voice at the moment."

"You could've called me later. Better late than never, they say, too."

"Well I'm sure he would've loved to call to check up on you after 10 years of forgetting, but there are more important issues at hand that require immediate attention." Alfred's tone was sarcastic, then dropped lower. That was the sign for Arthur to start writing.

"Alright, what is it, then?"

"Well, to put it briefly, there has been an accident." Alfred read the sentence off the screen. "You remember your father, right?"

"Oh, the dumbfuck waste of space. Yep, I remember him." There was a sigh at the other line. "Is he finally dead?"

"No, but in Arthur's opinion, he's not far." Alfred winced, reading over Arthur's shoulder. "Anyways, I don't know if you were aware, but Arthur's dad has been verbally abusive to him ever since you left, so-"

"Wait, hold up, abusive, you said?"

"I take it you weren't aware."

"Hey, I knew the old bastard yelled a lot and raged whenever someone spoke of mother, but I didn't know he was abusive."

"Well, he was for the entire time that Arthur lived with him." Alfred growled, as if blaming Alasdair for it.

"Lived? Does that mean he actually moved out? Wow, I didn't even know that the little squirt was over 18." There was a whistle of congratulations from the other side.

"Uh, actually, he turned seventeen in May." Alfred clarified, a bit disgusted that the older man didn't even know how old his brother was.

"Alright, I won't interrupt. Keep talking. What's this accident you mentioned?" the voice sounded careless to Alfred's ears, but Arthur smiled, knowing that this was his way of getting concerned. Alasdair had never been keen on showing concern or affection in public.

"Like I said, Arthur's father was verbally abusive, and last Friday, they got into an argument that turned physical." Alfred gulped down nervously. "Arthur was nearly strangled to death by his dad's hands and barely escaped alive."

"Fuck." There was a sharp intake of breath on the other side. "Is that why he can't speak right now?"

"Yes. Among other damage, his vocal cords were hurt to the point where he's only recently started making low, whispery noises again." Alfred reported, eyes darting nervously to the computer screen where Arthur was diligently typing up the info.

"Fuck." The other voice repeated sombrely. "I'm sure he's fine, though, right? Artie was a tough bastard ever since he was a child."

"Well in my opinion, he's a complete wreck." Alfred huffed, and yelped when Arthur punched him, pointing to the screen. "But in his opinion, he's holding up fine. Believe who you wanna believe."

"Well, asides from trying to make me feel guilty, is there a reason you called?"

"Yes. And Arthur says he'd kill himself before trying to make you feel guilty on purpose. Sentimental, isn't he?" Alfred snickered, ruffling Arthur's hair lovingly.

"He's always been the girl of the family."

"Well, he says fuck you." Alfred shrugged, watching as Arthur erased the giant bold letters on his screen irritably.

"At least he's still himself as I knew him."

_"But he's not!" _Alfred wanted to say. _"He thinks he's worthless, he overworks himself, he's too quiet, his sense of self-esteem is close to zero, he won't accept himself for who he is, Arthur is NOT himself right now!" _

But he kept it all inside and instead settled for reading what Arthur wanted him to say next.

"Anyways, back on track. We reported to the police yesterday, and the arrest warrant has been issued for your father."

"About fucking time. The guy should have been arrested for being born."

"You really don't like him, do you?" Alfred blinked in surprise. He wasn't even aware that it was possible to hate your own father that much.

"Understatement. But anyways, go on."

"Well, they're gonna, but the police wants Arthur to have another adult relative with him now that his dad's gonna be out of commission. It's not like it's mandatory, more like an informal procedure to make sure Arthur's well on his way to recovery, and..." Alfred left his sentence hanging seeing as Arthur's hands were trembling on the keyboard.

"And...?" There was a pause. "Oh. Oh, you mean... You mean I have to come over?" the voice sounded surprised.

"Yeah... He basically just needs a relative with him right now." Alfred answered, raising a brow. What else did the man think was expected of him? Call one of Arthur's faceless relatives over from England?

"Oh." There was shuffling. "But I... I'm too far. And... I, uhh..."

"Okay, listen, Alasdair, right?" Alfred snapped, annoyed by the hesitation in his voice. "This is Alfred talking, and not Arthur. I don't know what your alibis are, but I don't care either. Arthur's been hurt real bad, and he's finally starting to heal. We're trying to help him, and you're a part of his recovery."

Arthur gently put a hand on Alfred's shoulder to calm him down, but only succeeded in getting it shrugged off.

"I don't know if you're thinking that everything will be alright if they're left as they are, but they're not. You and Arthur think alike. You both think that it's okay to let things die down on their own and suffer through as they do, but it's not. Moral of the rant, I'm not gonna let you give up on Arthur just like that. I'm a hero, Arthur's hero, and I am personally gonna make sure that he's happy from now on." His eyes flashed. "So you'd better get your butt in the car in the next hour and drive over here because your little brother needs you, and it'd be totally uncool to let him hang like that."

There was silence. Arthur looked down, blushing bright red and wringing his hands in embarrassment. He appreciated Alfred standing up for him and all, but he didn't have to chastise his brother on how he treated his siblings...

"I ought to hit you, you know, kid." Alasdair finally sighed wearily.

"A lot of people would like to." Alfred shrugged with a smile.

"Artie can hear me right now, right?"

"Yes, he can. He's right next to me."

"Hey Artie. Do me a favour and give him a taste of the infamous Kirkland hook, would you?"

And Arthur readily complied by rearing his fist and throwing a strong right hook at Alfred's arm. The yelp of pain that Alasdair heard right afterwards proved that Arthur had indeed inherited the family's most precious skill, after all.

He chuckled. Despite throwing off his cool front over the phone, he was quite worried. Arthur had always been the most fragile of the family, and he was almost afraid of confronting him after such an accident.

It had been so long. How had he grown up? Had he grown the common giant Kirkland eyebrows? Maybe he was as tall as himself now. Had he cut his hair or had he left it long over the nape of his neck like he'd done when he was small? Was he strong and muscled or small and bony?

The questions ran free in his head, and he suddenly found himself regretting having missed out on so much of his little brother's life. And he regretted not keeping up with him even more. If he'd known about their father... Maybe he could've done something before it all built up to this.

"Alasdair?"

No matter. The past was the past. Perhaps he hadn't been a good older brother to Arthur before, but he now faced an opportunity to make up for lost time. He wasn't gonna pass up on that.

"Hello, are you still there?"

"Yeah." He whispered thoughtfully, pulling a cigarette pack out of his pocket and eyeing it. He'd quit smoking a couple of years ago and now tended to smoke only when nervous or anxious. He didn't see a reason why his brain called for a fag right there and then.

"So. What do you say?" that Alfred boy on the other line asked quietly, hope lacing his every word.

"You should write a novel, y'know that, kid?" Alasdair sighed. "You could make girls cry if you put those words to good use."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Alright. Give me an address. I have things to take care of here before leaving, but I'll be there as soon as I can." He muttered, picking up a stray piece of paper and a pen from the table in front of him. The kid on the other side took a sharp, relived breath and immediately gave him his address, along with loose instructions on how to get there from the interstate. Alasdair wrote them down and stared at the number on the paper.

That's where his little brother was. That's where he was going. That's where he'd finally get another chance to be the big brother he never was for Arthur.

"Thanks. We'll be waiting impatiently." There was a pause and shuffling. "And Arthur's asking if you remember the flower bed incident when you were still sixteen and he was, like, seven."

"Yeah." Alasdair's huge brow rose in surprise, wondering where this conversation was going.

"Arthur says that he was the one who stomped on the flowers and then put your soccer" a yelp. "sorry, sorry, football ball in it to frame you. He says it was revenge for having pulled his hair the day before. That is all."

Alasdair's eyes widened, and he found a gape etching itself on his face at the thought. Their mother had yelled at him so bad, he'd been sure his ears would fall off. And then he had been grounded for the next month. So Arthur had been the one to do it? Evil seven year olds were not to be underestimated, it seemed.

The gape soon melted into a frown, and he bit his bit worriedly.

Some random stranger couldn't have known of an event that personal. So Arthur was most definitely there. And that meant... he was definitely hurt, and definitely needed him now.

"Arthur, I'm gonna kill you when I get there. Sit still until then. I'll be there soon. Bye." He muttered, and shut the phone without even waiting for a reply.

By the time he'd put the phone down on the table next to him, a cigarette had found itself between his lips. He anxiously eyed the paper with the address on it again, and reached for his lighter.

Grey smoke rose into the air and didn't fade even when a gust of wind came in through the door along with Peter.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

**Original version made more sense in the plot aspect of the story, but this version makes a lot more sense in the realism aspect of the story. Damn. Dilemma. **

**Yes, the principal is Rome and the receptionist is Germania. Lol. **

**The way Arthur names his files comes from how I name my files. I write the first thing that comes to my mind at the moment and it becomes the title. Funny, but very inconvenient when I have to search for a file OTL**

**Cameos of two of my favourite youtube videos appear in this chapter. I had to, sorry. Can you spot them? C:  
><strong>

**Oh, and Google is surprisingly unhelpful with information on police operations. At least I tried changing some things with the original version. BLAH DON'T HATE MEEE ;A;**

****Um yeah, that's it. Please review? I'm too uncreative right now to ask you to review in some overly flamboyant fashion, so yeah. Reviews are adored as much as I adore you C:  
><strong>**


	13. Find

**Author's Notes:**

**My usual roll of thank yous for the beautiful reviews~ I'd be more creative, but... I dunno, I'm just so... demotivated to do anything right now. I don't know what's wrong. Just pent-up frustration, I guess. I hope. So yep. Huuuuge thanks to baconis1priority, Hino-of-the-Dawn, animefangirl55, SpacePotato, batty29, SamuraiSal1, SkyFox345, Mizu-Chan-Minamino, Doodle Sketch, SoraChiistar, Pureh, Pychopathic Robot 9, foreverhalfa, FoolishLittleDuck, Waytomuchadoaboutnothing, Izu3039, SOSVampire, Trumpet-Geek, Hatake Kai, Mocha MintCocoa, Rhelyn and Tabbyprincess for their really awesome reviews. Whenever I am not smiling enough in my opinion, all I do is read your comments and life just picks itself back up C:**

**Also, I think that many repetitive reviewers can now actually SENSE when I'll be posting a new chapter. Because I have a pattern that I follow when I do anything that has to do with this story ;) Do you know what it is?  
><strong>

**Lol, I was going through the kink meme version of this to recover my author's notes from on the meme when I read a newly posted comment that told me how I'd slipped up on Arthur's speech in this chapter and made him speak when he wasn't supposed to have been able to. I laughed for a while. Then I felt embarrassed for a while. Then I swore for a while. Then I spent a while trying to find a paper bag to hide my face under TwT  
><strong>

**There aren't gonna be many warnings for the chapters after this cause it's pretty much an uphill development. Maybe some swearing, and light mentions of homophobia here and there. Nothing big, though. So... Enjoy~**

* * *

><p>Arthur was just about to lose hope for that night. It was already dark outside, and the shiny red numbers on the digital TV clock announced two hours to midnight. Alfred's parents had gone to their room, and the three younger boys had decided to wait for Arthur's brother together.<p>

That implied that Alfred and Matthew spent their time killing alien-looking creatures on the TV, occasionally swearing at each other to put more effort into it. Arthur just watched and blearily noted half their conversations. His mind was too occupied with Alasdair to be able to pay attention to much else.

"Ah, damnit, Al, you're really bad at this!" Matthew seethed when the screen went blood red, the letters "GAME OVER" ominously dripping on it.

"It's not my fault you let that alien thing alive enough to bite me!" Alfred huffed, crossing his arms.

Matthew looked about to say something back, but shut his mouth at the last minute and whacked Alfred upside the head instead.

"I'm going to bed. Unlike you two, I have school tomorrow." He muttered irritably, putting the controller on the ground and getting up.

"Awww, come on, Mattie, one last round?" Alfred pleaded, latching onto Matthew's ankle.

"No, Al. We played for so long because we were waiting for Arthur's brother. It's ten now, so I don't think he'll be coming tonight. We can wait for him tomorrow." Matthew shook his ankle until Alfred's loose grasp fell off.

"But you never know! Depending on what part of Pennsylvania he lives in, it should take him two or three hours to get here..." Alfred whined, rolling on the floor. Arthur couldn't help but snort in amusement at the scene.

"Alfred, the world's not gonna end if he doesn't get here tonight. You'd better get some sleep instead of staying up. He's not coming, and that's final."

And then, the doorbell rang.

The room suddenly fell into silence. Tension rose up in between the boys and no one dared even breathe. All eyes slowly went to the front door and froze.

The doorbell rang again, snapping the three out of their trance. Alfred was the first on his feet, slowly inching towards the front door. He stopped once next to Matthew and bumped him in the shoulder teasingly, to which Matthew replied with a low 'don't you dare say it, or I swear I will break your face', and then kept walking.

Arthur watched him go until he touched the doorknob. And that's when he reacted.

His body shot upright, and his breath hitched. He momentarily hoped that Alfred had gotten the bright idea to order late night pizza, and that this was the delivery guy. It now hit him that 'oh my god. Just beyond that door is your brother, you know, the one you haven't heard from ever since you were eight' and that his past was catching up way too suddenly.

He shakily got to his feet and tried walking, but found that his knees were trembling too much. His mouth felt dry and his heartbeat was going off the charts in apprehension. Oh god, what if Alasdair hated him? What if he took one look at him and just turned and left? What if he got disappointed with the way Arthur had grown? The reaction possibilities were endless.

"Should I open it?" Alfred finally asked, hiding his own nervousness under a smile.

"Please do before he leaves." Matthew muttered, less uneasy than the others.

"Alright. Here goes." Alfred took a deep breath, faced the door and turned the knob.

Arthur would later remember this moment as one of those moments that stole his breath away.

Messy red hair, tall, lean body, giant eyebrows, cigarette between his teeth...

"Pardon me, but is this the Jones residence?"

_"Alasdair."_

"Yeah." Alfred replied after a moment spent gaping. "I'm Alfred F Jones. I spoke to you on the phone."

"Hey. Nice to meet you face to face." Alasdair replied, throwing his barely-started cigarette on the ground and crushing it.

"Ah, uhh, where are my manners? Please, come in." Alfred quickly caught up, stepping aside to let Alasdair enter.

"Thanks." The older man ran a hand through his bright red hair and stepped through the threshold.

"Let's move to the living room, if you like." Alfred suggested a bit nervously, locking the door and taking the lead.

"Hmm." Alasdair nodded, his gaze a bit lost in thought. Alfred felt it was normal. Arthur had been sporting the very same expression or the last seven hours, after all.

"Hi." Matthew silently greeted him as he stepped in. "I'll go get our parents."

Alasdair nodded to him and then finally turned his head.

Two same-blooded emerald gazes locked, and the world seemed to stop turning at that point.

Arthur couldn't move. He couldn't even begin to form the words he wanted to describe the situation with. Everything seemed to have been sucked out, only leaving Alasdair in his mind.

Alasdair looked at the young adult standing next to the couch and immediately knew that this was the one he was looking for. Not only were the eyebrows a dead giveaway, but the same aura of innocence that had surrounded him when he was small was still there. Broken, afraid, nervous, but innocent.

He instantly knew that the boy –no, the young man- facing him was his brother.

"Hey." He finally managed, his fingers twitching slightly, wanting to reach out and touch Arthur, as if to make sure that he wasn't an illusion.

Arthur didn't reply, his mouth still dropped in a gape. When he finally did move, it was only by lips. They slowly curved and opened again, over and over and over again.

Alasdair.

That's what he was repeating like a mantra. The name sounded foreign, yet comfortingly familiar to him. He hadn't had such a surge of emotion through the phone. The sight of his long lost big brother was enough to render him speechless.

"My, how you've grown into a fine young man. Last time I saw you, you were just a wee lad running around and butchering mother's flowers." Alasdair chuckled, trying to speak past the ball of nervousness in his throat.

He didn't understand why Arthur was looking at him like that. Eyes wide in shock, unmoving except for his lips, Arthur was admittedly a bit scary.

And then, he suddenly moved.

It were probably the hardest steps to take in his life. Arthur couldn't remember his first baby steps being this hard to walk. Slowly, though, he shakily closed the distance between him and his brother, only stopping an inch in front of him. He slowly trailed his gaze up until their eyes met again.

His lips curled into a silent rendition of his brother's name again.

And the next second, he had his arms thrown around Alasdair's neck, squeezing tight and never letting go.

"God, Arthur, when did you become so strong? You're choking me." Alasdair laughed, the ball of nervousness in his throat finally ebbing away. His muscled arms found their way around Arthur's back, returning the light gesture of affection.

It was far from a simple gesture of affection for Arthur, though.

He was actually making sure that Alasdair was real. In fact, all that had happened in the past week or so felt surreal. He was just so afraid that Alasdair would disappear into thin air if he let him go now. He didn't want to lose him again, not after having gone through the heart wrenching loss once already. Just the thought of all this possibly being some kind of beautiful nightmare made tears rush up to Arthur's eyes. But he couldn't cry. If this happiness was meant to be nothing more than a lie, then he wanted to live his lie in complete and utter content.

"Okay, stop being so sappy and lemme go." Alasdair finally chuckled, gently pushing Arthur away from him. Arthur stepped back a bit and looked up, scrutinizing his older brother's nostalgic gaze.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, a wide grin slowly stretched out on Arthur's face.

The room felt just a bit brighter after that.

"Oh, hello."

All eyes turned to the staircase as three people came down one after the other, looking a bit tired.

"Hello. Sorry for being a bother." Alasdair spoke up first as the older man and woman approached him.

"It's fine, really. Arthur's like a part of our family now, so we're there for him." Alfred's mom smiled. "I'm Amelia Jones, Alfred's and Matthew's mother."

"James Williams, their father." The man behind her muttered.

"Alasdair Kirkland, Arthur's oldest brother. Pleasure to meet you." Alasdair moved to shake their hands. "Thanks for taking care of Arthur all this time."

"Our pleasure, really. He is our son's boyfriend, after all." Amelia smiled.

"Boyfriend?" Alasdair's eyebrow rose in confusion, and he put his hands on his hips, turning to look at Arthur.

Arthur met his gaze halfway and immediately shrunk back in fear. Oh god. He hadn't thought of telling Alasdair. What would he think now? That his little brother was just another queer? Would he hate him? Abandon him? Wouldn't he love him anymore? He hadn't wanted him to know, not so soon. Not when their relationship had just been picked up from the ground a minute ago.

For the first time in a while, pure, unadulterated fear sprung up in his chest and he lowered his gaze to the floor, hoping, praying that this minor detail wouldn't make a difference in the relationship between him and his brother.

"Oh, you weren't aware?" Mrs Jones blinked innocently, and blushed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to spill it just like that."

"It's cool, mom. It was supposed to come out some day, right?" Alfred shrugged, shuffling over to Arthur side and gently taking one of his clenched hands into his. "Besides, this doesn't change anything, right?"

Despite looking insistent and imposing, his tone was hopeful and pleading.

Alasdair looked at them, two young boys, each their own lives and personalities, now tangled together, holding each other closer than they held anyone else, dancing a dance that could be ruined by just a single misstep, not knowing the real pains that life brought, so innocent, so pure, so young...

He sighed. It wasn't that he disapproved of Arthur's sexuality, hell, he'd experimented with males before, too, but he wasn't sure if Arthur was ready. Not after being so ignored and stepped on for practically his entire life. Going from completely worthless in one's heart to completely precious in another's could be a very harsh switch. And Arthur had always been sensitive.

Alasdair wasn't sure if a relationship was what Arthur needed right now, on top of all this stress.

But as he saw Arthur's hand relax and entangle itself within Alfred's hand, he realized that he wasn't the one who would choose that for him. He had been absent from his little brother's life for the last ten years, and it wasn't right to just waltz in and choose what he thought was best for him right now. It wasn't his place as the older brother he never was.

"Right." He finally muttered, trying a small smile on for size. "It doesn't change anything at all."

And Arthur could have cried in joy at that moment because everything just felt so perfect.

He raised his gaze and met Alasdair's, unsaid gratitude shining in his eyes. Alasdair just returned it with gentle reassurance. And they both felt completely at ease with it, because no one outside of their bubble could have understood the warm feeling their emotional reconnection had brought them at that moment.

"Alright. We've bothered them enough." Alasdair finally sighed. "I spotted a motel on my way here, so get your stuff so we can leave."

"Actually, it's been discussed already, and you can both stay here until you find someplace new to stay." Mrs Jones butted in.

"What?" Alasdair blinked uncomprehendingly.

"Yes, well, it was discussed prior to your arrival between us." James spoke up. "The lack of proper rooms would force you to sleep in the basement, but we made sure everything was comfortable enough."

"But we can't just abuse your generosity like that. Arthur has been staying with you for quite a while already." Alasdair shook his head. "We'll just rent a motel room and be back in the morning."

"No point in doing that since you're staying here!" Amelia smiled, although her tone was dark and insistent.

Shivers ran across Alasdair's back, and he suddenly found that he didn't want to contradict the woman.

"Besides. Arthur's a part of our family, too. We can't just leave him hanging like that." She added on a softer tone, fondly gazing at him as he blushed at the words Alfred was whispering in his ear.

Alasdair's gaze strayed back to the teens, noting the affectionate eye contact, the intertwined fingers, the awkward stances as if afraid that one move would break the other. He knew what they were going through. He'd dated before, and he, too, at some point, had acted all awkward around his partners.

Just like he did, they thought they were in love. Love. Such a small, but powerful word. Alasdair knew better. His brother wasn't in love. He was dating, yes, but he hadn't fallen in love with Alfred. Not yet.

Love came softly. Alasdair knew that. It would take time until the teens could realize whether they really were in love or not. They'd have to develop their feelings first, and then say if they were in love or not.

It would only be with time that they would either grow to love each other, or realize that there was no love from the beginning. And god, if Arthur looked this happy without even being in love, Alasdair didn't want to ruin his chances if he was ever fated to love Alfred.

"Well, Arthur, you must be tired." He finally whispered, gazing fondly at his little brother. When had he grown so much? When had he become so autonomous, so tall, so big, so _fragile _? "We should get some sleep. Tomorrow's a new day, after all. You'll show me to the basement, won't you?"

_...OOOOOOOOOOOO..._

"All's well that ends well, you see, Artie?" Alfred smiled as they walked into the school hand in hand.

Arthur just looked at him, wondering what he was talking about.

"I mean, it's been a week since everything's quieted down. Your dad's gone to jail, your injuries are healing fine, you and your brother get to stay with us, and look! Nobody's looking at us anymore when we hold hands!" he giddily grinned.

Arthur could only smile at that and wonder where Alfred was getting all his energy. Then again, he wasn't complaining, because most of the time, Alfred's happiness was also his.

"So what are you gonna do now?" Alfred asked, leading him towards his locker. "I mean, we're going back to normal and all, but you can't speak yet, and we're together, and you won't have to fall asleep in class anymore, so..."

Arthur shrugged and opened his locker. He didn't know what he was going to do, but hey, he'd tackle challenges as they came up to him. He knew he could do it because he had Alfred by his side.

"Oh hey, by the way, you're gonna come watch me next week, right?" Alfred suddenly piped up, leaning against a locker next to Arthur's.

The confusion in Arthur's eyes proved that he had no idea what Alfred was talking about.

Trying not to look too deflated, Alfred sighed.

"Saturday next week. You know, it's our last football game before the winter vacations. We'll be having an indoors game with that other high school not far from here." He reminded. "You'll be there to cheer me on, right?"

_**"I didn't even know you played games in winter." **_

"Yes, well, we do, but in an indoors field. Last time we played outside with frost, one of our players slipped and broke his leg." Alfred shrugged. "But you'll come, right?"

_**"I don't have a choice, do I?" **_

"Not really. It'll be nice, I promise. I'll play extra hard when you're there." Alfred laughed.

_**"I'll think about it. Go do your bag now." **_

"Yes Sir." Alfred chuckled and ran off, leaving Arthur to take his snow boots and coat off and fill his bag with his morning classes' books.

After getting ready, they both walked to their class together, getting ready for yet another boring day of school ahead. The only thing that made it different from every other boring school day was the reassuring spark that ran through them every time their fingers brushed during their walk.

That night, the boys went to bed later than usual. Math was being a bitch for Arthur, and Alfred hadn't wanted to let the issue go until Arthur understood. Cue three hours of math tutoring before Arthur assured him he understood so that they could both go to bed.

He tossed and turned in his sleep, though, as he realized he'd been lying. That he'd been lying to Alfred, most importantly. The numbers just kept running wild in his head and he asked himself for the millionth time that night what he would accomplish by learning algebra.

Well, he would make Alfred proud if he could get over 80 in a math test... And he would be making his overall grades better if he brushed up on his math.

Ah, the problems were endless.

Before he knew it, he found himself rolling off the bed he and Alasdair shared, tip-toeing towards the desk where he'd left his schoolbag. He slowly opened the zipper and fumbled around for his homework, pulling the crinkled papers out gently as not to make much noise.

After retrieving his pencils and calculator, he looked around for someplace to work. The moonlight was filtering through the closed blinds on the single basement window, and that alone was not enough to see much. Looking around, his eyes strayed to the door at the corner of the room.

The bathroom.

Arthur sighed. Better than nothing.

_...OOOOOOOOOO..._

The morning reminded him of that one time he was stuck sleeping outside their front door when his father had locked him out and had taken the spare key. His neck ached from where he'd craned it to doze off on the closed toilet lid and his back felt sore as he had twisted it to fit in the tight space between the toilet and bathtub.

His pencils were strewn in his lap, calculator limply hanging in his hand, head cushioned by the many pages of homework he'd gotten out to do. To his dismay, the first thing he realized when he looked at the papers was the small puddle of drool on the top one.

_"Crap..."_ he whined, rubbing his eyes tiredly and starting to clean up. The bright light that had stayed on during the entire night was burning his eyes and he felt numb all over. After about two weeks of getting proper sleep, his body reacted violently to being deprived again and he suddenly found his vision swimming.

He simply figured that that was his body's way of saying 'fuck you, I liked it better when you were making progress!' and decided to push on nonetheless.

There was noise, and it took him a few seconds to register that someone was knocking on the door.

"Arthur?"

Who was that again? That didn't sound like Alfred.

"Oi, you're gonna be in there much longer?"

Oh, right. Alasdair. Long lost brother and such.

Well, since he was in here, he might as well get ready. Not wanting to open the door and write something to his brother, he simply turned the shower on to pass his message.

"Alright. Don't take too long." Alasdair sighed when he realized what Arthur was doing.

And Arthur didn't reply because he was too busy trying not to slip as he got in the shower.

_...OOOOOOOOOOO..._

First period was bearable. Reviewing Shakespeare with Alfred sitting at the desk next to him wasn't bad enough to make him want to fall asleep. Besides, with Alfred worriedly glancing at his sunken expression every three seconds, he couldn't afford to even doze off.

It kind of reminded him of a couple of weeks ago, when he acted the very same way every day with the hopes of not being caught. Not to mention that he failed at it most of the time.

He assured Alfred he was fine three times before second period ended.

It was at the beginning of third period that he realized that life really did hate him after all.

How ironic that it was because of math that he'd skipped out on a night of sleep, and that it was in math that he'd get the hardest waves of sleepiness. He cursed Mother Nature seven times before he decided that life sucked and left it at that.

Inevitably, he felt his eyelids droop as more numbers and symbols started appearing on the board. He paused and contemplated whether math was this torturous for everyone before deciding that he didn't care and just wanted sleep.

And really, it felt so appealing that his body approved the thought by lurching forward. Despite how much he hated it and fought back, he had to admit that he finally felt at ease.

He'd always been one to like routine. And after having so many foreign concepts hurled at high speed into his life, it felt nice to finally find something that felt familiar to him. Not the best of things, but he was familiar with the tug of sleep he felt in class, he was familiar with feeling the cold table under his cheek and the constant fear of being told on.

Now THIS was something he could relate with, even if he didn't want to.

_Tap. _

Arthur opened his eyes -_ when had he closed them? _- and frowned, spotting the offending piece of eraser that had impacted with his head. Mentally ranting to himself about flying erasers, he bent down and picked it up, noticing that there was a paper rolled around it.

Raising a brow, he opened it and immediately recognized Alfred's writing.

_"Did i jst see u fall asleep?" _

Panicked eyes rose upwards until they locked with a disappointed gaze a bit farther away from him, and he looked down in shame. Of course. Alfred. The boy had a knack for telling when he would fall asleep every single time.

Another piece of eraser impacted with his cheek, drawing a soundless yelp from him. He picked it up and opened the message again.

_"I dunno y ur fallin asleep in class again bt i want 2 talk 2 u after, got it? Jst try 2 stay awake, k?" _

And Arthur didn't know whether to cringe at the prospect of talk or the horrible spelling.

"So why were you sleeping in class again?" was the first thing Alfred asked when he came over to Arthur's desk.

Arthur didn't reply and kept packing his books. Noticing that he was being ignored, Alfred grabbed Arthur's wrist and turned him around to face him. Surprise and slight fear immediately shone through his wide eyes, and his breath caught in his throat when he noted the harsh look in Alfred's eyes.

The harsh look quickly melted away, though, and Alfred looked down sadly. His grip slackened on Arthur's wrist and he gently put it up and kissed the underside of it to apologize.

"Sorry. I just thought we were over this." He murmured against his skin, wondering why old habits were resurfacing when all else was going well.

Arthur turned his gaze to the floor, shuffling guiltily.

"You know you can tell me anything, right? If something's bothering you..." Alfred trailed off, already expecting the negative shake of Arthur's head. "Sorry. I'm just worried. I just don't want us to regress. I don't want you to regress." He muttered.

Arthur just hoped that the look in his eyes said enough. He wasn't regressing. He was working towards a better future.

"So what's up?" Alfred asked, letting go of him and helping him pack his books. "You've been fine these past two weeks, so why now? I didn't think sleep deprivation treatment side-effects involved drawback symptoms. "

Arthur waved him off with a simple roll of his eyes.

"Tired, huh? Well, I do admit you weren't exactly the most awake person at the breakfast table today." Alfred chuckled, zipping Arthur's backpack up and picking it up in his arms before Arthur could sling it over his shoulders.

_**"I" **_Arthur hesitated, biting his lip as he looked down at the empty marker board. _**"was working yesterday night." **_

"Through the entire night?"

A nod.

"I thought you'd given enough presidential work to Francis to be able to concentrate on the exams coming up this week."

Arthur shook his head.

"It's not presidential work?" Alfred raised a brow, leading him out of the classroom. "Then what is it? Don't tell me you're obsessing on homework."

Arthur looked down.

"Oh, really, baby? I didn't think you were the type to do homework overnight..." Alfred sighed. "I thought we finished homework together, anyways, didn't we?"

_**"You know how I said I understood logarithmic equations yesterday evening?" **_

"Yeah?"

_**"I didn't." **_

"You didn't have to stay up all night to try and understand them on your own, though." Alfred crossed his arms. "You could've asked the teacher after class, or even me. Didn't I help you enough yesterday?"

And despite the innocent undertone to his words, Arthur still felt like he'd let him down.

_**"I'm sorry... I didn't want to bother you. I wanted to show you that I was capable of being independent." **_He erased his sentence shakily. _**"I didn't want to make you mad. I just wanted to make you happy."**_

"Oh, baby..." Alfred sighed, gently gathering Arthur in his arms and pressing his nose into his hair. "I'd never get mad at you. Every single progressive step you make to get better makes me happy." He took a deep breath, losing himself in Arthur's presence for a moment. "It just makes me sad that you're mistreating yourself with the hopes of making progress."

Arthur didn't reply, but gratefully slid his arms around Alfred's waist.

"Alright." Alfred muttered, pushing Arthur away after a moment. "From now on, you promise to tell me everything?"

Arthur nodded.

"You promise to take better care of yourself, especially when I'm not looking?"

He nodded again.

"You promise not to skip sleep anymore? Ever? Because if you keep sneaking out to work in the middle of the night, I might just have us share a bed." Alfred joked.

And yet, despite the humour, Arthur's last nod was accompanied by a fierce look of determination.

"Good. You're pretty good in history, so I'll cover you this one time. But not anymore, okay?" Alfred chuckled, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before sliding in the seat across from him when the bell rang.

Arthur sat down and napped for fifty minutes undisturbed.

That night, he was just about to fall asleep when Alfred came downstairs and made himself comfortable on the carpet under their makeshift bed.

In the morning, upon waking up, Alasdair jokingly asked if he was potty trained, at least.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

**Just some insight on Alasdair's character. He won't be appearing too much after this. I'm gonna concentrate more on Alfred and Arthur.**

**Also, I don't know about you guys, but I believe that you don't fall in love right off the bat, but you learn to love with all the time you spend with your partner. Most of the time, I hear teenagers say "I love you" to their partners too easily, and I don't feel comfortable with it, because I don't think they really know what love is. But anyways, I'm not the right person to talk, so I'm just gonna develop the USUK as a creaky, awkward relationship that slowly grows better in time.**

**Also, math is a bitch and deserves to die. Logarithmic equations, dafuq are those? I have an exam in two weeks and I don't even know ._.**

**Asides that, next chapter is probably gonna start with a small time skip because I want to skip over the technical parts and get straight to the fluff. I'm very tired of writing/researching technical stuff, so I just wanna go back to everyday life. Hope you're okay with that. And if you're not... any complaints, along with comments, CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, monkeys and Globus should be sent to me via review.**

**Yes, that me subtly asking you to review. Hurr. I should be a secret agent, I'm just so subtle. Haha, please review (:  
><strong>


	14. Hurt

**Author's Notes:**

**I haven't been feeling too good lately, so yeah, I am aware that I'm not as energetic as before with my responses. Nonetheless, you guys never fail to bring a smile to my face whenever I read your beautiful reviews. Thank you so much for all the comments and criticism, MissKitty23,Nitengale, yanoe, Hitsu4HinaEva -Hari-Sama, mayu, ShadowEntity, Roith and Lorette, Doodle Sketch, Mew Bubblegum, RukiaoftheBloodMoon, FoolishLittleDuck, Waytomuchadoaboutnothing, Rhelyn, Apple-Cola, SOSVampire, baconis1priority, Trumpet-Geek, SamuraiSal1, ForeverHalfa, sherphy, Pureh, animefangirl55, AFreezingFlame, SpacePotato, SkyFox345, Pychopathic Robot 9 and Izu3039! All of you are wonderful, and it took me over an hour replying to all of your lovely comments, an hour in which I never stopped smiling ^^**

**As for anonymous review replies, I received a surprising lot of them last chapter, so here, replies~**

**-MissKitty23: Arthur will interact with Francis later on, for just a bit, but yeah, they're still in that "frenemy" phase of theirs. Thanks for reviewing~**

**-Nitengale: I'm glad you like it, thanks for the review :D**

**-yanoe: Ah bon, tu es Français? :D De France? Parce que moi, je suis canadienne-française, donc ne te gêne pas si tu préfère écrire des commentaires en français parce que je vais comprendre de toute façon (: En tout cas, merci beaucoup pour les commentaires, c'est vraiment apprécié :D**

**-mayu: I'm more into writing in "dual POV", which basically means writing in the 3rd person, but exploring the subconscious of every character. I make efforts to mention who's talking, though, and when I don't, I try to make it obvious. But uhhh, I'm sorry if that doesn't work out for you, it's really just a style I like to write in :I My writing's very... implicit xD If you pay attention, you can often find a story behind my stories ;w; And yes, I do know that I skipped out on technicalities, but when I wrote this on the kink meme, I was: 1) for a reason, extremely turned off of making effort for research, 2) I didn't have enough time in the story to draw Arthur's recovery out like it should have. So... I did warn of medical inaccuracies for the sake of the plot :I And yeah, I know what you mean with the A/N's, I tend to write whatever comes to mind when I compose A/N's TwT I'm sorry, I'll rectify that. Still, thank you so much for the wonderful reviews and criticism :D**

**And finally... Warneengs here? C:Hmmm... Some physical injury, and gay teens being gay because they're so ADORKABLE together. That is all. Enjoy~**

* * *

><p>"Are you ready yet?" Alfred whined, walking around in circles as Arthur took his time pulling his socks on. He shook his head and adjusted the hem of his shirt, attempting to comb his hair a bit with his fingers. "This isn't the winter dance, you know, it's just a football game."<p>

Arthur glared at him.

"Like I said. It's an American football game, so no need to get all pretty." Alfred huffed. "Not that I would mind it or anything, but we're gonna be late. I have a lot of warming up to do before the game, you know. Coach won't be happy if I get there late." He muttered.

Arthur raised his index finger in a motion that clearly said 'wait a moment' and wandered off to find his shoes. Despite Alfred's demands, he was in no inclination to rush, so he calmly crossed the room, gathering his stuff. The football game could wait a bit.

"Artiiiiiiie." Alfred whined again after a couple of minutes. "Hurry, or I'll be forced to kidnap you."

Arthur raised a brow but grabbed his marker board on his way to his bag, scribbling a message for Alfred.

_**"Well you're the one forcing me to go." **_

"I promised I wouldn't make you do anything you didn't wanna do, though." Alfred pouted sadly. "If you don't wanna come, then maybe you should just stay..."

But the dejected look in his eyes said everything. And Arthur really didn't like that look because it made him feel guilty all the time. He didn't want Alfred to be sad because of him. The prospect of spending three hours watching padded teenagers ram into each other was a bit repulsive, but it made Alfred happy.

And when Alfred was happy, he was happy.

_**"Alright, I'm done." **_

"Finally!" Alfred groaned, checking his watch. "Ah, we're already late for the warm up session! We gotta hurry!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, but erased his previous message and answered with a simple _**"Alright, alright, we're going. Don't get your panties in a knot." **_. God, he really hated writing with a board. Every time his marker squeaked over the white surface, it reminded him of how he was unable to make sounds for himself.

What had it been, two weeks? Three weeks since the accident? Shouldn't he have reacquired his ability to speak yet? He didn't want to try, because he was afraid of hurting himself if is vocal cords were on the mend, but he really REALLY missed hearing his own voice.

He just wondered how long it would take before he could start groaning at Alfred's tasteless jokes and hum when he held him in his arms. He just wondered when he would be able to scold Alfred for having horrid table manners and thank him when he let him cuddle with him. He just wanted to heal. He wanted to heal for Alfred.

Before he'd realized it, Alfred was already trying to fit his arms through his winter coat sleeves, carefully avoiding his neck. The bruises had pretty much disappeared by now, but the emotional scars remained despite what Arthur liked believing. They both knew that it was a topic to avoid, so they tiptoed when it came to the issue.

And Arthur hated it.

He hated being treated like a glass doll.

Because he didn't want to face the fact that he _was _indeed fragile and _was _indeed in need of protection and comfort.

After quickly getting dressed, the two rushed out of the house, Alfred leading them in a fast pace towards the school. Their last game would take place in the indoors gymnasium the school had invested in, so thankfully, it was not far. Still, Alfred was in quite a hurry, and Arthur started regretting his decision to take his time.

It was the last game, after all, and Alfred had probably wanted to make the most of it.

"Alright." Alfred stopped him once they got to the bleachers. "Stay here. I got a front row seat so you can see me as I do the heroic final touchdown, so you better not let anyone take this special seat." He grinned, already shrugged out of his coat to get into his football clothes.

Arthur nodded and smiled, his way of wishing luck to Alfred. And Alfred knew it because he grinned back and bumped his nose against Arthur's, gazing lovingly into his boyfriend's eyes.

"I don't need luck. I've got skill."

And oh, did Arthur love the arrogant bastard.

A quick kiss later, he was off.

Sighing, Arthur sat down and looked around. Most of the people around him, he recognized from school, and nodded to a couple of them as they passed by. At some point, Francis even came to bother him, but Arthur really wasn't in the mood for his antics and ignored him.

After his seventh time trying to touch his thighs, only to be pushed away, Francis decided that Arthur was no fun and left. That meant that Arthur was left alone to watch as the two teams finally finished warming up and advanced on the field.

Cheers rose from both sides, the two teams' cheerleaders immediately lapsing into their routines before the game. Arthur watched uninterestedly as the girls whooped and cheered, and only perked up when the boys finally came face-to-face to shake hands before the game.

And then he realized how gay that sounded, so he blushed and sunk into his seat.

It wasn't long before the ball was put down and the referee was holding the whistle up to his mouth. The entire stadium went silent for a moment, the air stood still, nobody moved... And the whistle rang out into the open air.

Cheers immediately erupted from the entire gym, supporters of both side yelling out encouragements and names as the ball was put into play. Although startled, Arthur crossed his arms and tried to look for Alfred in the crowd of huddled players. It was hard to tell with those heavy masks and gear they wore, but he finally spotted the one he was looking for when one of them broke away and started running.

And god, he felt so bad, just sitting there and watching while the entire crowd around him cheered. Some girls sitting right behind him were screaming Alfred's name, and Arthur suddenly felt extremely jealous of their capability to do so. Even if he had worked up the guts he needed to cheer Alfred on in what he loved doing, he wouldn't have been able to.

His hand self-consciously rose to massage his throat, wondering when things would just go back to normal again. Whatever normal would be like now that he had so many new things to consider in his life.

Mechanically, his hands rose to clap when everyone else did, and he kept his eyes trained on Alfred's form as he ran back to his teammates, bumping against them and laughing to celebrate the first point of the game.

And suddenly, Alfred turned in his direction. Even through the football helmet, his grin shone like a beacon of sunshine on a rainy day and brightened Arthur's life. As he lifted a hand and waved frantically, Arthur couldn't help but smile and wave back. Alfred was just too amusing.

Just too amazing. Just too funny, just too perfect, just too handsome, just too considerate. Just too compassionate, just too caring, just too lovely, just too happy. Just too much for someone as isolated as Arthur.

But he didn't mind. Even if he knew that he and Alfred made a more mismatched couple than any other Hollywood stars, he liked it, and he wasn't keen on letting it go. Alfred meant too much to him, and he didn't think he could find a balance if he left now.

Despite wanting to look independent and strong, he was just as aware as everyone else that he was nothing without Alfred. He knew he could lean on Alfred no matter what, even if he had difficulty admitting it. Everything was just too confusing for him.

As Alfred dropped back into position for the second play, Arthur looked down and smiled bitterly.

Alfred was his everything.

He'd kill himself before letting any harm come to him.

And the irony of that statement almost killed him when an hour later, Alfred was tackled in the midsection and shoved to the ground by the burliest member of the other team. The whistle sounded as the ball touched the ground.

A large gasp flew through the crowd, along with cheers for Alfred to get back up and keep going. Arthur was on his feet in a second, worriedly watching as Alfred winced and tried getting up. The other guy got up and held a hand out to Alfred amiably.

Arthur's heart resumed a regular pace when Alfred grinned and took the guy's hand.

Arthur's heart practically stopped when he suddenly screamed in pain and flopped back down.

Arthur gripped the banister, eyes trained on Alfred's fallen form. The other guy had kneeled next to him and taken his helmet off, and some of Alfred's teammates, along with his coach, were already running for him. He felt frozen. Just an hour ago, he'd been promising to himself that he'd die before seeing Alfred get hurt. Had he broken another promise? Why was he unable to keep any?

And oh god, Alfred was hurt. Sweet little Alfred, who had taken him home, cared for him, _loved _him when no one else did... _His _Alfred was hurt.

By the time he snapped out of his horrified trance and zoomed back into reality, the coach was already talking to Alfred and checking for any injuries. Alfred was wincing and sweating, head thrown back and settled against the ground. He was taking deep, agonized breaths with his mouth open, shakily nodding at his coach's questions as his hands trailed over his abdomen.

And then, the coach put pressure on Alfred's hip.

Alfred screamed.

Arthur had jumped over the banister and was already running for him even before he became aware of it himself.

Why was Alfred so far? Why did the world want to separate them? The faster Arthur ran, the further Alfred seemed to get. His breath was coming out in short gasps, his body unused to the physical exertion, but he wanted to keep going, to be strong for Alfred.

And yet, he could feel his composure melting. Worry was already making his heart lurch, and he could practically feel the tears pricking his eyes. But he didn't want to cry! He didn't want to lose it in front of Alfred when all he needed right now was a strong face! He wanted to be there for Alfred because Alfred was always there for him.

The first tears unwittingly escaped his eyes when he got close enough to read the pain on Alfred's face.

Panting, he all but fell by his side, ignoring everyone around him. The coach asked who he was, and one of Alfred's teammates told him of their relationship. But Arthur drowned it out and reached for one of Alfred's hands, gently taking it and pressing it against his heart.

Alfred didn't respond, and groaned again. Arthur bit his lip to keep himself from bursting out into fresh tears. He didn't like this. He didn't like Alfred looking so pained. The expression didn't fit him. He wanted to see a laughing Alfred, a smiling, energetic Alfred, not a hurting one. Alfred was like a ray of sunshine, he wasn't supposed to be extinguished. He was all that could light Arthur's life up, and he didn't know what he was supposed to do now that even his only beam of light had disappeared.

"Okay now, doesn't look too bad. A hip pointer on his right hip, quite obviously, and he might just have a small concussion because of the fall." The coach diagnosed. "It's all good, boys. Go play your game, the medics and I will take it from here."

But Arthur only registered the fact that Alfred was hurt and oh god, maybe he had a concussion, maybe he was badly hurt, maybe he would be paralyzed, maybe they'd have to amputate him, what if he _died_?

"Alright, son, I need you to let go of him so we can put him on a stretcher." The coach gently touched his shoulder, snapping him out of his panicked trance. Arthur looked up at him fearfully, gaze pleading and teary.

The coach chuckled and patted his back comfortingly, getting up to let the medic team put Alfred on a stretcher. Alfred whined in discomfort as he was lifted and put back down, and as soon as they lifted him up, Arthur ran to him and took his hand again.

Alfred still didn't respond and kept breathing heavy.

Arthur felt his heart shatter.

No one said anything as Alfred was taken back to the team bench and put down, the medics immediately pulling him out of his gear. Not long afterwards, the whistle announced the restart of the game behind him, but all Arthur could hear was Alfred's heavy breathing. It hurt him inside as much as it hurt Alfred outside.

He finally got a good look at his hip when the medics bared it and immediately turned back around in order not to feel sick.

It was just a bruise, he kept telling himself, just a bruise. It didn't matter that it was large enough to cover his hip, or bright red and blue, or utterly disgusting and horrific, or-

Oh god, he was gonna be sick.

"Alright, with a lot of rest and painkillers, he'll be alright. We need ice here. Someone also has to go get a hip compress from the school infirmary." One of the medics called, gently lifting Alfred's lower body and putting cushions under his hips, to elevate the injured area.

But why wasn't he waking up? They kept treating it like it was nothing, but Alfred was hurting, he was half-conscious, what if his hip-bone was broken? Why wasn't Alfred waking up? Arthur could feel himself panicking. Alfred had always been the stronger one of the two, he was just the follower. When the leader fell, what did the others do?

Arthur couldn't help but panic. And oh god, what if it was his fault? He had taken his time, Alfred had been late for warm up, maybe he hadn't warmed up enough? Maybe he wouldn't have bruised if his body had been ready? It really was his fault after all. He felt disgusting and slimy and god, he just wanted to die.

He'd never seen Alfred so weak, so exposed. Usually, he was the hurt one, and Alfred would do the comforting. He really had no idea what to do now that the roles were reversed. Alfred was his hero. What could he possibly do to save someone so powerful?

"Alright, get that ice over here." Alfred whined as the ice was set on his hip, eyebrows scrunching in discomfort. Arthur gripped his hand tighter and lowered his gaze. He felt so powerless, so useless, so weak, so pathetic, why couldn't he ever do anything right? Why couldn't he be strong just this once?

"Hey, someone keep that kid awake for the moment."

The answer was obvious. This was Alfred. Strong, confident Alfred who never let anything put him down. Seeing him like this really dealt a huge blow to Arthur's psychological stability.

Alfred was perfect to him. Alfred wasn't supposed to get hurt, ever. Alfred was a hero, his hero, he was supposed to save people, not be saved. Oh god, he felt so wrong thinking all of this, so selfish, so disgusting, he wanted to die, why was Alfred hurting? Why was his world crumbling so quickly when it was built up so nicely? Why couldn't he be good even at controlling his own emotions?

The building falls when the foundations crumble.

Because this was beautiful, amazing, strong, smiling, lovely, perfect Alfred. This was his Alfred. Oh god, he needed him to wake up, he needed Alfred to wake up.

_"Please wake up, Alfred, please, I'll do anything, don't scare me like this, I don't know what to do, I feel so useless, please help me, save me, I'm panicking, what should I do, I don't know, I'm lost, please be okay, please be alright, please wake up, Alfred, my Alfred... Alfred, Alfred, Alfred, Alfred-" _

"Alfred." He finally called in a shaky voice laced with tears, squeezing his best friend and boyfriend's hand tightly.

If this were a fairy tale, Alfred would have woken up, empowered by the sound of Arthur's long-lost voice. But it wasn't. Fairy tales didn't exist. Arthur was aware of that. Alfred kept his eyes closed.

Arthur's resolve crumbled, and silent tears dripped down his cheeks.

When Matthew finally walked over to his side and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, he ignored him. When he told him that their parents had been called and that everything would be okay, he just got up and retreated to a corner of the team area, curling up and staring at his toes blankly.

A bit later, when Alfred woke up, he didn't move and didn't respond to his name. Alasdair ended up being called to carry him home. When he did, he crawled into bed, regardless of the early time, and stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep.

He didn't want to see Alfred anymore.

Not until he could become strong enough to face his fears.

It was time for him to stand up and be Alfred's hero.

_...OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO..._

When Arthur decided that he didn't need to lay in bed anymore, drifting in and out of consciousness, the digital clock on his night table showed 7 in the morning.

Furrowing his brows, he idly wondered why he was up so early when he finally registered that they were Sunday morning now. Meaning that the day before had been Saturday.

And oh god, Saturday.

Memories came rushing back to him, reminding him of how he failed to keep his promises once again. He really was doomed to be a failure, it seemed. He had to work something out, though, he knew he had to. He couldn't just sit down and take being a failure.

Because deep inside, he knew he wasn't.

Deep inside, he knew that he was finally healing.

And now that he was finally getting better, it meant that he could finally get closer to Alfred without any fears of being not good enough. Yes, it was time for him to rise up to his true potential.

And then, he slowly put a hand around his throat. His hands felt warm on his skin, and he just touched his throat for a second. It felt like something had been reborn in him, something that had died long ago. Something that felt strangely like... hope?

"I can talk." He finally whispered, marvelling at how his voice came out. He put his fingers in front of his mouth and repeated his simple sentence, shivering at the strings of hot air that the words brought with them.

And he suddenly realized that _"Oh my god, I can speak again, I can say things again, my voice is back, I can laugh, I can thank the Joneses for all their hospitality, I can tell Alasdair how much I missed him, I can remind Alfred how much I love him and-" _

Oh god.

"Oh my god." He suddenly broke out in a wide grin, tears of intense joy and relief starting to roll down his cheeks. It felt unreal to him. His voice sounded so nice, despite being low and raspy and cracked. He looked to the side where his marker board was lying on his night table. He wouldn't be needing that anymore.

Before he knew it, he'd swept both the marker board and marker off the night table with a wave of his hand, watching as they clattered noisily on the tiled floor. They could stay there. He didn't need them anymore.

He choked a sob a couple of times and finally turned, spotting Alasdair's curled up form next to him. Still sleeping.

But Arthur could talk now.

Alasdair wouldn't be staying asleep that long after all.

"Alasdair!" he grinned, leaning down and shaking his brother roughly. "Alasdair, Alasdair, Alasdair!" god, he'd wanted to say that name for so long. It felt so good to be able to say it again, to feel the familiar letters tumbling off his tongue, to remember how many emotions were tied to the single word.

"Pet'r ye bett'r start runnin' y'damn brat, it's too early to wake me up now..." Alasdair groaned, turning around and opening his eyes.

Arthur absolutely beamed at him when he finally opened them wide enough to see him clearly. Alasdair rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked at him worriedly.

"Arthur? Is something wrong?' he asked curiously, raising a brow when Arthur shook his head, making more tears roll off his cheeks.

"I can talk." He finally rasped, using the inside of his wrist to wipe his tears off his face, only to have new ones replace them immediately. "Alasdair, I can talk."

A fond, relieved smile broke out on Alasdair's face, and he nodded.

"Yeah. Nice to know your voice has finally matured. You were really squeaky during your smaller days." He chuckled, finally getting a glimpse of his younger brother in complete.

This was the brother he had come here to save. This was finally Arthur Kirkland poking out.

"I can talk." Arthur sniffled again, feeling like it's the only sentence he could say. It felt unbelievably good to be able to speak again.

"I can see that." Alasdair smiled bitter sweetly, immediately hugging Arthur as the younger threw his arms around his neck.

"I can tell you now." He whispered, burying his face in Alasdair's shoulder. "I wanted you to stay. Why did you go? I loved you."

"I'm sorry." Was the only thing the older man found to say, running his fingers through his brother's hair soothingly.

"But you're back. You're finally here. I missed you. I'm so happy." He chuckled, squeezing tighter and shaking in a cross between laughter and sobs. "I can finally tell you this."

"Yeah. I've left Peter on a long term at our neighbours' house, so... I'm back. And... I'm not leaving for good, this time." Alasdair smiled and heaved a sigh. Good. Everything was back to normal. At least, for now.

There was suddenly the sound of someone rushing down the stairs. The sound of creaking wood grabbed the brothers' attention, making them both turn their heads towards the newcomer.

"Hey, is everything okay? I thought I heard something fall a while back."

Arthur's eyes widened and he suddenly felt faint.

Alfred.

No, he couldn't stop now. He was ready to face his weaknesses. He was strong. Alfred was a part of his life, and he had to accept him as so.

"Artie?" Alfred called worriedly, shakily walking down the rest of the steps. "Are you okay? You're crying."

"Well, since I won't be getting any more sleep this morning, I'm gonna go take a shower." Alasdair gruffly announced, untangling his arms from Arthur's back and pushing the covers off.

Arthur watched him go, wanting to reach out and get him to stay. Every time he left, it made him realize that he really could just leave like that one day, despite promises not to. Alasdair was his security blanket. He wanted him to stay, if only to make him feel more comfortable around Alfred.

But this was his battle to fight and win. He had to do this on his own now. He was strong enough and he knew it.

The teens watched as Alasdair left the room before looking at each other again.

"Well then." Alfred cleared his throat awkwardly, moving to sit on the side of the bed, back given to Arthur's. "Uhh... Good morning."

Arthur nodded, unable to conjure the words he wanted to say.

"Are you okay? Mom said you were unresponsive for the second half of the day yesterday." Alfred tried again.

Arthur just nodded absently again because he had so many things to say to Alfred, he didn't know what to start with.

"Oh, uhh... Okay." Alfred muttered quietly, turning his head away. Some silence lapsed between them, and for a moment, they felt like total strangers to each other. This lack of communication was really taking a toll on their relationship.

Honestly, Alfred was sick of not being able to understand Arthur. He just had so many problems, and he was trying to help, but Arthur kept hiding and lying, and he just didn't know where all this was going. Sometimes, he just became so... frustrated with the fact that he was doing everything he could to help Arthur, but that Arthur couldn't help himself. He loved his boyfriend, he really did, but... seeing him sad, despite general efforts to change that, made Alfred feel so horrible.

He had been unable to sleep that night, actually, because he was considering demoting their relationship to something that would be easier to manage. And he'd been so disgusted with himself afterwards that he'd just stared at the ceiling for the rest of the night, unable to stop hating himself.

Really, this lack of shared sentiments between them was breaking them both. He had to stop this before they both started falling apart. He didn't know if his heart would be able to take it, and he would gladly die to spare himself the pain that it would surely bring, but he loved Arthur too much to keep hurting him like this.

He took a deep breath

"Arthur... I've been thinking. This relationship of ours... Maybe we were too hasty." He ended up whispering so low, he could barely even hear himself. "Perhaps it would be better if-"

"I'm sorry. It's just that you're my only anchor to reality and I kind of lost it when you got hurt. I love you so much, I don't know what I would do without you."

Alfred's eyes widened to huge proportions, and he didn't dare turn back to Arthur. He was just so afraid. So afraid of false hope. He knew that long-lost voice. He knew that tone. But the words... The words hurt him, a lot, considering what he was just about to say, and he didn't want to keep going, but he had to. For both of them.

"Arthur, I-"

"Through it all, I've made my mistakes. I've stumbled and fallen. But I really mean these words."

Oh, no. The pain. He had to stop this. He didn't want to hear any more because with every word, his heart contested his decision even more. He had to do it, though. He had to put an end to the strain in their relationship. If they couldn't manage intimacy, then maybe they could manage friendship. Alfred loved him too much to break off completely, but it would hurt less if he could still make him laugh.

That's all he wanted to do. Make Arthur laugh and laugh with him. That, and he wanted to hold him and whisper sweet nothings in his ear and smell tea on his clothes and feel his breath over his cheek. But if he couldn't get all that, he'd content himself with the bare minimum. As long as Arthur was happy, he was happy. So he had to do this. He had to push him away, he had to break his heart, he had to hurt him so that they could both be happy after that.

"I want you to know, Alfred." A shudder of pleasure ran across Arthur's body as he finally said the name of the boy he'd given his entire life over to. "With everything, I won't let this go." If Alfred were to turn around now, he'd be able to see the fierce determination in his eyes. "These words are my heart and soul. I'm going to hold onto these moments, you know." A tired smile graced Arthur's lips, and he blindly put his hand back, touching his fingers with Alfred.

"Arthur, just-"

"I love you." Arthur finally breathed, feeling a huge weight lifting off his chest. "And I won't let go. Not anymore."

And after that, Alfred's heart threatened to fall into pieces if he ever even thought of breaking up with Arthur again. He didn't even think it was possible to love someone so much. His heart leapt in his throat and beat fast in his chest. Alfred wondered if Arthur could hear his feelings slam against his ribcage. He wondered if the whole world could.

This was the boy he'd fallen in love with.

"Yeah." He finally whispered, allowing a small smile to break onto his face.

How he'd been stupid enough to even consider the easy way out eluded him. He was a hero, of course he had to fight for his and his beloved's joint happiness. He didn't have the heart to leave Arthur. He would never.

"I love you too. And I'm not gonna let you go either. Never."

Alfred's fingers found Arthur's and intertwined them together.

The world felt just a bit brighter after that.

"So you can talk now." Alfred noted obviously, joy soaring in his heart as he realized how true those words were.

"Yes, I can." Arthur replied with the same glee. The tears had long past dried up, mostly because he'd promised himself he wouldn't cry in front of Alfred unless he really needed to.

"That's amazing." And despite the fact that Arthur was far from returning to normal, this was yet another step towards victory. They were getting there. They were slow, took several steps back on the way to the top, had to jump over many obstacles, but hey, despite all that, they were still together. And they were still advancing.

"It is." Such small words, such big messages. Arthur just didn't know what to say any more than that.

"So..."

"How's your hip?" Arthur suddenly asked, gulping down.

"... My hip?"

"Yeah, you know. Uhh... You got hurt at football yesterday." And the fact that Arthur had actually called American football just football showed how ready he was to make things clear again between them.

"Oh, yeah, it's no big deal." Alfred laughed a bit awkwardly, waving it off. "It looks serious because of the size, but it's just a bruise. It's blue and red, but it just needs some rest to go. I might limp for the first couple of days, though."

"That's good. You really made me worry." Arthur swallowed his pride and figured that he might as well tell Alfred everything on his mind.

"Yes, I uhh... Kinda realized that when you stopped answering to your name when I called you yesterday." Alfred muttered.

"I'm sorry. I was just confused and panicked. I promised I wouldn't let you get hurt anymore, and you still got hurt."

"You can't keep me from getting hurt, Artie." Alfred chuckled. "I'm Alfred F Jones, after all!"

"Stupid idiot. And my name's Arthur, not Artie." Arthur looked at the ceiling, blushing.

Alfred had never realized how much he loved being scolded if it meant hearing his old Arthur resurface.

"So we're all cool now?" Alfred suddenly asked, smiling. "No beating yourself up because I'm hurt, right?"

"Really, though, why would I blame myself on this?" Arthur answered in a tone that suggested that Alfred was mad. "You're the one who decided to play such a violent sport and knew the risks when you got in. Not my fault you got injured." He shrugged neutrally.

But Alfred was grinning and showing no signs of stopping. The shock was almost too much for him to handle. Life really felt perfect now. Arthur had finally stopped belittling and blaming himself for everything, or at least had started working on stopping. And that's really all he wanted.

Not a new PS3. Not new football gear. Not good grades. Just Arthur's happiness.

They were finally getting there.

"Thank you." He finally choked. "Thank you so much."

"For what? I didn't do anything." Arthur raised a brow, turning around to look at Alfred's back, fingers never untangling themselves from his.

"For everything." Alfred grinned, turning around as well and watching as Arthur's eyes grew in size. "For just being you." He sighed out, dragging his boyfriend into a soft hug that completely obliterated the tension that had built up between them these past few weeks.

Arthur blinked in surprise for a moment, but his gaze softened immediately. His arms snaked around Alfred's waist and clutched at the fabric of his upper back. He dug his face into Alfred's chest and breathed deep, humming in delight when his brain detected that wonderful smell of everything that was Alfred.

Alfred smiled and put his arms around Arthur's waist, lovingly making sure he was comfortable in his lap. He closed his eyes in delight at the tender moment and softly put his cheek in Arthur's hair, the soft blond strands tickling the tip of his nose pleasantly.

Lulled by the presence of their partner in their arms, the teens soon lost themselves in one another and closed up from the real world, only to sink in their own bubble where there was only them.

When Alasdair came out of the shower, the two were still in the same position, soft, loving smiles on both their faces.

And at that moment, Alasdair decided that this was for the best. This was making Arthur happy, and everyone wanted that for him. The wait, the rush, the search, the chase, everything was over now. They wouldn't have to have fears anymore. They wouldn't have to see tears anymore.

Because Arthur had finally found true happiness.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

**Arthur's psych: Okay, so I'm abusing the word 'Alfred' in the first half of this chapter. Normal. Arthur's kinda re-spiraling back into that simili-madness of his now that his sanity holder is gone. Alfred's kinda like his anchor to reality. If Alfred's there, everything's okay. When Alfred's gone, everything falls apart. Basically, he's kinda feeling something crossed between intense worry and severe confusion and panic. **

**The USUK Relationship: It's kinda like Stockholm Syndrome, where your trauma makes it so you get attached to another person (in Stockholm Syndrome's case, to your kidnapper) quickly. If Matthew were the one to have saved Arthur, he would have attached himself to Matthew and would have lost it if Matthew got hurt. So it really doesn't help that he genuinely holds feelings for Alfred, either.**** Arthur knows that Alfred will be there for him, and he's extremely dependent of him because he doesn't have anyone else to lean on. **

**Arthur's reaction: Arthur's over-reacting by thinking of amputation and death, because honestly, hip pointers are very common bruising injuries and rarely require anything else than R.I.C.E and time to heal. But his brain is kinda not thinking straight because he's going through this panic/shock of seeing his mentor, his goal, his saviour hurt.**

**Anyways, it's a trauma-induced panicky reaction. And then he goes into some kind of "voluntary shock", which is basically his own way of cutting himself off to the world. Like becoming a vegetable. Or a zombie. Or a zombie vegetable (LOL). The brain does that, especially when faced with stimuli from past trauma (remember in one of the older chapters, Arthur was momentarily lost when the scarf touched his neck?) so that it can shut itself off and avoid more trauma.**

**Arthur's voice: Yes, Arthur just spoke. Did I warn you about medical inaccuracies? Yes? Well, I'll warn you again. I'm having a terribly screwed up medical aspect installed in this story because vocal cords don't magically repair themselves in the span of 2-3 weeks. But hey, Iggy is magic, so his vocal cords do. Shuuuush~~~ ;) **Haha, but Arthur didn't magically gain the ability to speak again at Alfred's game. He probably had been healing well enough to talk for a couple of days, but he never had been prompted to speak, so he couldn't know. Basically, he could have spoken earlier, but he didn't know he could.****

**Did you guys get the song reference? If you didn't, it's called "With Me", and it's by Sum 41. Though I kinda fixed the lyrics to fit the situation. (And of course, disclaimer issues make me repeat the obvious: I don't own this song. While we're at it, I don't own Hetalia, either).**

****So yep, the power of USUK compels you to review... So just do it. Prease? C:  
><strong>**


	15. Heal

**Author's Notes:**

**I'm late. As hell. Cause being on time is too mainstream. And saying that has now become too mainstream. Pfft.**

**Anyways, I wanted to apologize, because quite ironically, on top of all the exams and projects I had this week, I had a minor period of sleep deprivation (hurhur the irony) in the beginning of the week, to the point where I couldn't even walk in a straight line because I was too dizzy. And I`m sick, so my eyes keep tearing up and I can't see what I'm typing. So yeah. That's my alibi. Suck it C:**

**As usual, I want to thank everybody who is awesome enough to leave a review, which basically includes xxninjagirl2xx, snowbook22, Ayowaeeowa, Apple-Cola, Waytomuchadoaboutnothing, Roith and Lorette, yanoe, sherphy, SOSVampire, Pandita, animefangirl55, Izu3039, SamuraiSal1, SkyFox345, 99KsRose, ShadowEntity, Pychopathic Robot 9 and Pureh. Thank youuuu~  
><strong>

**Aaaaand zeuh replies to anonymous reviews:**

**-yanoe: Ah, c'est merveilleux, je suis contente d'avoir une lectrice qui parle Français (de France, en plus!). Pas que j'aime pas tous mes autres lecteurs, mais... c'est bon, un peu d'exotisme, parfois ;)**

**J'avoue qu'Arthur a parlé trop tôt après son accident, mais comme je l'ai mentionné avant, l'histoire ne me permettait pas d'avoir une plus longue période de repos pour ses cordes vocales, donc j'ai comme... raccourci le temps minimum que ça prend pour la guérison (raccourci de plusieurs mois, mais bon, c'est juste un détail ;D). **

**En tout cas, j'espère pouvoir te reparler bientôt, et je tiens encore une fois à te remercier énormément pour le commentaire. C'était un grand plaisir de le lire (:**

**-Izu3039: Damn, you're so nice xD Thanks so much for the sweet review~**

**-99KsRose: Aw man, I'm so glad you liked it that much! Thank you so much for the review~  
><strong>

**No warnings for this chapter because it's all fluff~ Unless you count mild swearing as a warning-worthy element C:  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"Not much left until the end of the exams and the start of the winter vacation, huh?" Alfred remarked as he and Arthur walked into class. "I mean, there are today's exams, and tomorrow's, and we're all done!"<p>

"About bloody time." Arthur muttered lowly as they made their way to their assigned seats for the exam.

"I agree. Hey, look on the bright side, all the hard exams are over already! There's science and math left, and we're done!"

"I fail to see how these two exams are the easy ones." Arthur sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "I couldn't sleep a wink last night because I was stressing too much."

Alfred's face fell immediately and he turned to Arthur with narrowed, worried eyes.

"You skipped sleep again...?"

"It wasn't on purpose." Arthur quickly muttered.

"But you promised not to do that anymore."

"Alfred, listen." Arthur sighed. "I know you want to help me, and I know you're worried, for nothing, might I add, but I'm fine. Occasional insomnia just happens sometimes, even to people who don't have any problems."

"But you're different. You need your sleep to get better." Alfred pouted, crossing his arms and turning around in his chair to look at him.

"I don't want to be different." Arthur whispered, looking away, out of the window. It was snowing lightly, the sky bright in the morning sun, a soft winter breeze ruffling the evergreen trees planted outside the school. Everything was just so perfect. Everything but him. Arthur constantly felt like he was ruining the normalcy of every daily situation just by being there. He just felt so foreign to everything.

"You are different, Artie. But that's what makes you special." Alfred whispered back, eyes downcast.

"But I don't want to be treated differently. I'm normal. I don't have a problem. I'm normal." He repeated a couple more times, just for good measure. Because he was normal. He wasn't recovering from deep trauma that would most possibly affect him for his entire life. He was a regular teenager, going to school, preparing for the winter dance in three days, just living a mundane life.

He just wanted to be normal again.

He convinced himself he was.

"You're right. You are normal." Alfred finally gave in, smiling encouragingly to Arthur before he turned around to grab his copy of the exam.

Arthur took his copy of the science exam and breathed deep, grabbing a pencil.

He could do this. It was just an exam. If every other normal student could do this, so could he.

Because in the end, the truth was that he was nobody special.

Just one more human amongst seven billion others.

_...OOOOOOOOOO..._

"Artie! I'm back from my P.E exam!" Alfred called as he swung the door to the student council president's office open, waltzing in like he owned the place.

He stopped once he noticed that Arthur was nowhere to be seen.

"Huh? That's weird... Artie promised he'd wait for me here and do some work while I went and re-took my P.E. exam..." he muttered to himself, scratching the top of his head thoughtfully. Ah, if only he hadn't hurt his hip and hadn't been forced to re-take his exam on a later date... Then he wouldn't have lost Arthur...

As if to stop his thoughts in their tracks, though, the door to the adjacent office, belonging to the vice-president, suddenly swung open and slammed against the wall. Alfred's eyes immediately went there, and his smile brightened when he noticed Arthur shakily walking out.

First sign of something that was wrong.

Francis quickly ran out after him and grabbed him by the shoulder to stop him. Arthur didn't flinch at all.

Second sign of something being wrong.

Before a third sign could show itself, Alfred decided to intervene.

"But Arthur, it's not gonna work! They said they needed more time! Every single one of them!" Francis tried explaining, making unnecessary hand gestures in front of Arthur's wide, panicked eyes.

"I know, b-but... We have to try! They're all we've got!" Arthur argued in a small voice, unable to raise it considering his recent recovery.

"What's up?" Alfred asked, walking to their side and standing by Arthur protectively.

"Nothing of importance." Francis shooed him off, turning to speak to Arthur again before the latter interrupted.

"What do you mean, nothing of importance! This is of utmost importance! I can't believe this is happening!" he let out of a frustrated cry and stalked to his desk, shuffling through some papers strewn across the wooden surface.

"I know, I know, but there isn't much we can do. What do you suggest?" Francis asked a bit more quietly, approaching Arthur's desk as well and watching him panic.

"I don't know!" Arthur slammed his hands on the table roughly, hanging his head. "I don't know..."

And the desperation laced in his voice made Alfred want to hold him and kiss him until he smiled again. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to know what was up this time.

"Maybe we could try the ready-made stuff at the grocery store?" Francis suggested, wincing at his own proposition.

"Costs too much in that quantity. Plus, where will we work?" Arthur shook his head. "Then again... what choice do we have?" he sighed. "Frog, run to the principal's office and get me a copy of the allotted budget for our grade's activities for the entire year." He whispered, glaring at Francis when he only raised a brow in curiosity. "QUICKLY!"

Francis didn't seem like he wanted to object and swiftly walked out of the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Arthur fell in his seat and buried his face in his hands.

"So..." Alfred muttered after a while. "After being so thoroughly ignored for the last two minutes, may I have the pleasure of being told what the hell is going on here?"

"Goddamn caterers. For the party, I mean." Arthur sighed. "Francis called them yesterday and they told him that they couldn't make food for 200 people in 2 days' time. Every single one of them." Another sigh. "The party's after tomorrow. We'll never make it with any of these caterers."

"But..."

"And just when things were finally getting better! Everything was supposed to be perfect! This isn't supposed to happen, not now!" Arthur resisted the urge to slam his head on his desk in frustration.

"Then why don't we just do it ourselves?" Alfred asked innocently, repeating Francis' question.

"It would cost too much to buy individual packets of food, and I'd have to cut up on other things to have enough money. And then, even with Francis, we'd only be three, making food for 200. We have an exam tomorrow and I have to go help with decoration afterwards. We'll never make it."

"No, well, I meant we." Alfred gestured to them, and then to the empty space around them. "Like, you, me, and the folks."

Silence...

And Arthur would have lied if he told himself that at that moment, sudden hope did not soar through his heart.

_...OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO..._

"Someone who is NOT Arthur, please check up on those pigs in blankets!" Amelia called from the dining room, where she and Matthew were busying themselves with cutting up the vegetables.

"Hey..." Arthur frowned, crossing his arms and glaring daggers at the veggie dip as if it were its fault he burned everything he touched.

"I'll go." Alfred chuckled at his expression, pecking his cheek and going for the oven.

"Wear oven mitts, Alfred!" his mom called from inside again.

"Yes mom." Alfred rolled his eyes, pulling the mitts on and removing the bite-sized sausages from the oven and looking lovingly at their golden colour. "They look just about ready, mom." He reported.

"They look undercooked." Arthur noted from where he was.

"Arthur, shut up." Alfred resisted the urge to laugh. "If we cooked them any longer, they'd look like yours. And that's not a good thing."

Arthur blushed and muttered something that sounded like a string of swears, returning to his dip-making activities.

"Put them with the rest and come get the next batch." Alfred's father ordered from the counter, where he and Alasdair were respectively wrapping the hot-dogs and making the dough.

"Yes sir." Alfred smiled, gently putting the baked goods in the Tupperware with the rest of the ones they had made before.

"And Arthur, dear, once you're done with that dip, you can come take over with Matthew for the veggies while I start on the sandwich filling." Alfred's mother called again.

"And please, make sure you're adding the exact amount written for all the ingredients, Artie." Alasdair commented. "We want to avoid massive homicide as much as possible here."

"Belt up, bloody twat." Arthur grumbled as loud as he could, glaring at Alasdair as he mixed the ranch dip he was in charge of making.

"Hey, no swearing in my kitchen. Things'll go much smoother if everyone gets along." Amelia chastised from inside.

"Yes Ma'am." Alasdair snickered and stuck his tongue out at Arthur.

Arthur huffed and stored the veggie dip in a container, ignoring his older brother's childish antics.

It felt like even all this time, none of them had grown up at all.

When finished, he quickly rinsed his hands and went to the dining room to switch out with Mrs Jones so she could make the sandwich filling.

Taking the knife from her and grabbing a carrot from the bowl of veggies put between Matthew and him, Arthur smiled and got back to work.

"You know, it's quite admirable that you are planning such an important event on your own." Matthew noted a bit afterwards, eyes trained on the cucumber on his chopping board.

"Francis helped me plan." Arthur muttered, still a bit uncomfortable with praise. "And all of you helped me make it a reality."

"True. But you're a big link in this plan." Matthew smiled softly, dumping the cut cucumbers in a bowl. "You're doing an amazing job as student body president."

And Arthur had nothing to say because the warmth that had bloomed inside his heart had spread through his entire body and had turned all coherent thoughts to nothing.

He _liked _being appreciated. It made him feel so good about himself when he knew that he was doing something right. And that's why he wanted the winter dance to be perfect: so that people would not hate him anymore for what he did and who he was.

And which is also why he loved Alfred so much.

Because Alfred made him feel like a better person. Always doting, loving, praising... Alfred was his inspiration and his will to live. He didn't want to know what would happen the day that Alfred left for reasons X Y Z.

And he decided that he would wait for the day, and when it inevitably came, he would face it head-on without any fears. No matter when and where, he would be strong. For Alfred, who had put so much effort in helping him learn to live. For Alfred, who had shown him the joy behind loving and being loved. For Alfred, who had gone through such lengths to recreate some resemblance of a family for him again.

For Alfred, who was his hero. And for whose sake he had to smile.

So he picked up another celery stalk and let a gentle smile grace his lips as he cut it up.

Before long, the sandwich filling was done and both Arthur and Alfred had been sent to work on the triangle sandwiches with his mom. Arthur was admittedly getting tired, but the thought of these people, helping him although they had no obligation to, gave him a burst of energy.

"We should sing something." Alfred finally decided, his voice ringing out loud and clear in the semi-silence of the work zone.

"Alfred, shut up." Matthew softly huffed from the adjacent room, prompting laughter from their mom.

"Awww, my lovely Alfred wants to live up to his dream of becoming a superstar. How cute." She giggled, filling sandwiches and placing them on a plate.

"You wanted to be a superstar?" Arthur raised a brow. "What happened to astronauts?"

"Yeah, that too. I used to want to be a singer when I was small." He proudly declared. "Do you want me to give you a sample?"

"Alfred, please don't." Arthur gulped down. With a boisterous voice like his, Alfred couldn't have been any good at singing, right?

"I will! And with an appropriate song choice, too!" Alfred cleared his voice. "You're beautiful! You're beautiful! You're beautiful, it's true! I saw your fa-"

"Alfred, shut up." Arthur chuckled, shoving a large piece of toast in Alfred's mouth and cutting him mid-phrase. Alfred choked and doubled over, laughing and trying to expel the offending piece of bread out of his throat at the same time.

Arthur had to admit that he wasn't bad, but his voice was nothing special. At least he got his pitches right. As long as he wasn't blowing his eardrums, Arthur was okay with it. This was Alfred, after all. And he loved everything that Alfred did.

They had to stop at some point, though, when Amelia insisted that they rest for their last exam the next day. After a bit of fruitless struggling and insisting, the two were forced to separate and get ready for bed on their own.

Arthur was just pulling a shirt on when Alfred rushed down the stairs. He barely had time to raise a brow before he was swept up in a hug and pushed back on the bed. Momentary panic flashed through his system before he remembered that this was Alfred bear-hugging him, and that Alfred would never hurt him intentionally.

Blinking, he found himself staring straight into sky-blue eyes , the sheets crinkling under him as he shifted to accommodate himself a bit.

"So. Any reason why you just jumped at me?" he finally asked, watching curiously as Alfred's grin grew in size.

"None in particular. I just wanted to give you a good night hug, but then I saw you and I decided that you were too beautiful to be given just a hug." He shrugged as if it were nothing.

"Alfred, you sap, get off me." Arthur rolled his eyes and pushed against Alfred's chest half-heartedly.

Instead, Alfred gently lowered himself next to Arthur and cuddled up against him, consciously avoiding his throat and the surroundings.

Arthur rolled his eyes, and swallowed the small bashful smile that was threatening to break out on his face. The last thing he wanted to do was look like a blushing teenage girl with a crush on the popular jock.

Which he kinda was in a certain sense.

"We're halfway done with the food, you know." Alfred finally whispered in his ear. "Fuck caterers, we can totally own this business."

"Language, Alfred." Arthur warned sharply, then melted into a small smile. "But I do admit that I'm very grateful for the help."

"My pleasure." Alfred softly replied.

The two laid like that for a bit, enjoying the peace and quiet that they would get only when they isolated themselves in their own perfect world. They only untangled each other and sat up when the sound of the shower stopped, announcing that Alasdair would be coming out soon.

"Alright, I should go." Alfred grinned, taking Arthur's hands in his own. "Good night."

"Night, Alfred." Arthur fondly smiled at him, the boy who had turned his life upside down.

Alfred hummed and leaned over, chastely pecking him on the lips before standing up, fingers still interlocked with his.

"And Arthur?"

"Hmm?"

"You're not supposed to be normal."

Arthur stiffened, looking up. Confusion clearly swam in his eyes as he recalled their conversation in the classroom.

"You're not ordinary, you're not like everyone else."

W-What? But he'd tried so hard to change, to fit in, what was he doing wrong?

"You're different, you're special, you're completely something else."

"W-Why?" Arthur choked, a ball of nervousness clogging up his throat.

"You're not normal, far from it. You're extraordinary, Arthur." Alfred smiled fondly. "Amazing, perfect, out of this world, special... You're unique, you're yourself, and you're different from everybody else... which is why I love you so much."

"W-What...?"

"I love you because you're you, and no one else. Don't be afraid of being different." He winked and let Arthur's hands drop. Without another word, he turned around and left.

Arthur watched him go, then turned his gaze to his hands, where moments ago had laid Alfred's hands. Different? He was loved for being... different?

Love was decidedly more complicated than he'd first anticipated.

Then again, if it meant having all rights to Alfred's heart, he'd keep pushing. No matter how complicated, everything was worth it in the end, when he would see Alfred smile.

And on his way up to his room, Alfred thought the very same thing.

Because in the end, the truth was that Arthur was extremely special.

The only one he'd chosen amongst seven billion others.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

**See what I did there? Repetition power!**

**The theme of this chapter: How Arthur just wants to be normal like everybody else but Alfred won't let him because in his eyes, Arthur just extraordinary, wonderful, beautiful, perfect despite his imperfections. And so, that puts him far above the rest of the "normal" crowd.**

**Well, I'm tired now. I always am. Now if you'll excuse me, I have RP forums to stalk. Byebye~**

**And please review! I'm actually learning all of the regular reviewers' names by heart by now, and for some, I can actually tell whose review it is without looking at the penname xD So yep. I think of you guys every day cause your names are forever in my head now. I sound like a stalker. LQL. Screw this, I'm gonna go eat some peanut butter. Please review and I'll share some if you like! :D  
><strong>


	16. Sink

**Author's Notes**

**I have been working. Now multiply the intensity of that sentence by over 9000, and you'll understand why I haven't posted in forever.**

**Also, it was my birthday on February 22. Woohoo, I'm finally 17! Only one year left until I'm not a minor anymore! :D**

**Still, I'd like to thank everybody once again for the wonderful reviews, because I wouldn't be anywhere without you guys ;w; So thank you to xXxPrettyinPinkxXx, Canada Cowboy, Toshirorulez5983, animefangirl55, Nickle13, Rainstorm-Mosspath, Mew Bubblegum, Rick Allan Doyle, , SpiritoftheMapleLeaf, black-misty-sky, Apple-Cola, Hino-Of-The-Dawn, sherphy, Melody Syper Carston, Waytomuchadoaboutnothing, snowbook22, Pychopathic Robot 9, SOSVampire, bree4913, Trumpet-Geek, ForeverHalfa, baconis1priority, RainingHearts4Ever, Gazlover12-Canada, SamuraiSal1, lilsandstorm, ShadowEntity, Pureh, yanoe and Izu3039. The number of kind, beautiful reviews I got last chapter completely overwhelmed me. You should've seen how intense my grin was xD**

**yanoe:**** Bien sûr, en mes termes, tout pays qui n'est pas le Canada ou les États-Unis est exotique xD En tout cas, je suis très contente que tu aime l'histoire et que j'ai réussi à te faire entrer directement dans l'atmosphère des péripéties (: J'espère que tu continueras à aimer les quelques chapitres qui suivront, et encore une fois, merci beaucoup pour le commentaire :D**

**And some answers to questions... Yes, this story's almost finished. 2 chapters left after this one ): And no, there will be no M-rated content. Sorry. Arthur's just not in the right mind to consent to ANYTHING anytime soon. If they did anything right now, Arthur would go along with it for fear of upsetting Alfred, and Alfred would think Arthur's actually consenting, so it would end up as some kind of involuntary rape. Not cool.**

**And yes, I speak the language de l'amour. U mad. **

**So. Michelle is Seychelles, Bella is Belgium. **

**Warnings here: Just some teenage speak and sinking deeper D:**

* * *

><p>"More to the left." Arthur groaned in frustration, rubbing his forehead tiredly. About six feet over his head, Francis moved up another step on the ladder and reached a bit more to the left, fixating the garland on the wall there.<p>

"What about now?"

"It's okay." Arthur shrugged, holding the ladder as the vice-president got down.

"You know, at this rate, we'll never finish this. Didn't you say you also had the other half of the food waiting for you at home? The party's tomorrow." Francis noted, shrugging when Arthur shot him a dirty glare. "Just laying the facts down on the table."

"Shut up." Arthur muttered, looking down. Of course he knew how much trouble they were in. Decorating an entire gymnasium with only Francis and a few volunteers to help would be a huge challenge. Still, it's not like he could give up after coming so far. Even if he had to stay until midnight, he would.

"So where's lover boy?" Francis asked, moving the ladder to hang up the next part of the garland. "And you'd have thought he'd be nice enough to come help us decorate."

"He has a name, don't call him 'lover boy'." Arthur huffed, blushing.

"Doesn't explain why he's not here, helping his boyfriend through a tight spot." The vice-president shrugged, climbing up the ladder again.

"Watch your tongue, or I might just push you off." Arthur glared at him, then softened and looked down, crossing his arms. "I don't know, though. He just ran off, saying he had something important to do after the last exam. Besides, it's not like he promised to help. He has his own life to live, too."

"Are you sure you're happy in such a loose relationship?"

"I'm perfectly content with my love life thank you very much, now shut your mouth and hang that garland if you don't want me to pull that ladder right from under you."

"Grumpy, aren't you? _Calme tes fesses, rosbif._"

Arthur ignored Francis' French babble and watched him struggle for another minute before heading over to Michelle. The African girl was setting the plastic tablecloth on the buffet table, humming a song as she worked.

"Is everything okay here?" Arthur asked, surveying her work.

"Yep. The table lacks decoration, though. Do we have more of those shiny blue garlands somewhere?" she asked, pointing to the garlands Francis was struggling to set up on the walls.

"If there are any, they're in the boxes there." Arthur pointed to the stack of cardboard boxes in the middle of the room.

"Thanks." Michelle smiled and headed off to check.

Moving on, Arthur did a quick check-up on Antonio, then asked Bella to go get more duct tape from the storage room. Thankfully, Bella had volunteered and Francis had somehow convinced Antonio and Gilbert, his best friends, to come help. Although Gilbert was posted outside on guard duty, because Arthur deemed it wiser when he broke one glass ornament right off the bat. Better safe than sorry.

Speaking of Gilbert.

The doors to the gymnasium suddenly swung open and loud voices filtered in, laughing and yelling. Arthur growled, mentally swearing at Gilbert for not doing his job right, then turned to face the newcomers.

His voice stopped in its tracks when he recognized the blue-eyed blond leading the group of a dozen football players towards him.

"Alfred...?"

"Heya, Artie! So! Where do you need us?" Alfred grinned, jogging up to him and bear-hugging him so hard, his breath escaped his body.

"W-What are you all doing here?" Arthur stammered, going white as he watched the football players chatter from the corner of his eye.

"Well, I figured that you'd need help if you needed to make the party an epic blast, so I convinced some of the guys to come help out." The taller blond grinned proudly. "So. Got any boxes to carry?"

Arthur blinked at him for a moment, his throat going dry. Alfred had done all this for him. And he hadn't even been asked.

His kindness really did surpass bounds, after all. Alfred F Jones, the wonderful, helpful, happy, modest hero. Arthur's hero.

"Helloooo... Earth to Artie..." Alfred frowned, waving his hand in front of Arthur's eyes, snapping him out of his surprised trance.

"Uhh... Well, some of you can go get the sound equipment to put on the stage from the storage room." He explained in a shaky voice. "The others can help with opening tables and chairs, and pointless bright things on walls."

"Okay! We can do that! Count on us!" Alfred laughed, then pecked Arthur on the cheek before walking back to inform his buddies of the work to be done.

Arthur immediately reddened and grabbed the nearest decoration, running off to a corner to set it up there.

His breathing levelled back to normal when the sound of bustling boys got away from him, and he sighed. That Alfred. Always going for more. He didn't know what he'd do without him.

A smile graced his face as he stuck masking tape on a banner that he got on his tiptoes to stick.

Behind him, a few boys started helping Michelle open the table and set the plastic covers on them, while another bunch went over to help Francis string up the garland on the wall. From the corner of his eye, Arthur watched the progress double. A small smile stretched on his face and he often found himself walking around to inspect the work. Flawless.

Were manly muscular hormone-raged American football players supposed to have this kind of artistic taste? He felt a bit awkward thinking about where they'd learned that white complimented blue. They obviously knew it, by the way they were setting up the white snowflake cut-outs on the blue tablecloth.

And then, absolute chaos sprang up when the other group came back in with the sound equipment and started setting it up on stage. The noise they were making was deafening, cables flying everywhere as they tried to figure out how to set up the amps. Despite the general mayhem, Arthur couldn't help but chuckle.

The unusual help was not unappreciated, even if the noise was above his usual tolerance level. At this rate, they'd be done by six o' clock. And they'd spare Arthur so much stress, he would most probably sleep well that night. By the way they were laughing and joking while they worked, it was obvious that they had no idea how much all of their work meant to Arthur.

And then, of course, Alfred decided to be Alfred and stopped Arthur on his way to the boxes to ask for lunch.

"Unfortunately, I haven't thought of lunch, so I haven't got anything on me. Sorry, love." He shook his head before trying to push past him. Alfred grabbed him gently by the arms though and stopped him worriedly.

"What? But you didn't even eat breakfast. You have to eat lunch, at least." He frowned.

"I'm not hungry." Arthur muttered. "There's still a lot of work to be done."

"That has nothing to do with anything. You have to eat to get your energy." Alfred huffed. "Fine. I'll just go get pizza for everyone from that restaurant around the block. And I expect you to eat, too. I'll be right back, okay?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and smiled, all but pushing Alfred towards the exit. That boy and his appetite. They would never get along, it seemed.

Arthur watched him leave, then decided to make another inspection run. He slowly walked past everyone, occasionally answering inquiries and directing comments, as well as informing everyone of the much-awaited lunch Alfred was in charge of.

At the mention of food, the mood had considerably risen, despite the slowing of the work. Arthur didn't mind, though. All the work that had been done was already exceeding his expectations. Overall, he was definitely pleased. He would surely cancel the budget cut he'd planned for the football team. That is, if they still had any budgets to work with after the winter dance.

A sudden noise finally alerted everyone in the large gymnasium that the microphones had been successfully wired up to the amps. One of the football players was up on stage, badly singing some pop song while his friends danced in the background, probably using the alibi of a test run to have fun.

Honestly, they didn't have to have alibis. Who did they think Arthur was, a tyrant? He didn't want to make this a chore for any of them. They weren't even obliged to come in the first place, yet here they were.

The president stepped past a couple of guys that were moving a table, waved at Michelle as she triumphantly held up the lights she had untangled, and made his way up the stage.

"May I momentarily interrupt your wonderful presentation?" he asked with a smirk once he reached the stage.

"Huh?" the boy singing blinked, then quickly handed him the microphone. "Sure."

"Alright everyone, attention please." He called. All heads turned to him and gulped down at all the eyes looking at him, judging him, hating him-

No. No, nobody hated him. He shook his head in an effort to keep that thought in his mind and cleared his throat nervously.

"First of all, let me say that I am forever thankful for the help, from all of you. This would've taken ages without you all, and, well... Yeah, thanks, I guess." He muttered, blushing lightly. "Also, there's not much left to do. The lights have to be put up on the walls and the giant Christmas tree in the corner has to be set up and decorated. I suggest you all go for the Christmas tree because as you know from last year, it's extremely tall and will need a lot of people to set it up."

His eyes darted to the many boxes piled in the corner that contained the giant fake Christmas tree's many parts. That would still take them a couple more hours. He felt bad for making them work so much.

"Anyways, take it slow. Like everyone probably knows by now, Alfred's coming back with lunch any time now. You're free to leave at any time if you ever get tired." He informed them before doing his best to smile as brightly as he could. "And again, thank you so much for all the help. And now, I'll give the microphone back to our lovely entertainer so he can do what he does best." He chuckled and handed the mic back to the boy.

Incredulous and amused glares watched him as he stepped off the low stage and headed for Michelle.

"Are these all the lights?" he asked, eyeing the long strings of Christmas light tubes that Michelle had untangled.

"Yep. Just enough for both walls. You take the east one, Francis and I will do the west one." She smiled, nudging the pile of lights with her foot. "Go on."

"Thanks." Arthur chuckled lightly, gathering all the lights in his arms and painstakingly stumbling towards the east wall.

Halfway there, when his arm cramped up, he decided that he wasn't made for anything that involved physical action. He winced and tried pushing on, the lights weighing down on his back as well.

Relief practically escaped his lips when some of the weight was suddenly taken off his arms. He opened his eyes, which he didn't even remember closing, and blinked in surprise as he saw one of the football players take some lights in his arms.

"Well, everyone else is doing the tree, so I figured you'd want help here." He answered to Arthur's surprised gaze.

"Oh." Arthur replied stupidly. "Thanks."

They silently made their way to the wall and spotted the power outlet before starting to put the lights up. Arthur supplied the duct tape while the much taller football jock stepped on his tip-toes to tape the lights up as far as he could.

And they worked so well together that Arthur couldn't help but wonder how that was possible.

"So why don't you hate me?" he suddenly asked, handing another piece of tape to the other guy.

"Hate you?" the jock raised a brow in confusion. "I don't hate you. Not many people hate you, as far as I'm concerned."

"Everyone does."

"Hey, if this is about teasing you earlier on this year... I'm sorry, I guess." The other teen huffed in embarrassment, quickly turning away and pretending to fiddle with the lights.

"But I'm going out with Alfred. I've made the school's perfect golden boy gay. Isn't that enough to hate me?" Arthur sighed darkly, looking down. Why was he even discussing this with this stranger? He didn't even know him. For all he knew, the guy could just go spill their conversation to everyone else in the school later on.

But deep inside, he knew that he just wanted a third party's view on his life. Alfred was always encouraging him, loving him, supporting him... But what if that was just Alfred? What did everyone else think?

"Hey, hey, don't worry about it. At football, all of us are bros, and we'll never stop being bros, no matter what. If Alfred wants to date you, then so be it." He shrugged neutrally. "It's kind of a rule between us guys. We don't act any different as long as he doesn't tell us where he's putting his dick."

Arthur swore he became a tomato at that point.

His cheeks burned in shame, and he looked down, almost missing the signal for him to cut another piece of tape.

"But you know..." the football jock muttered lowly after a while. "Alfred does seem like he's serious with you. We haven't seen him act like this with any of the girls he's dated before." He chuckled sadly. "Like, the other day, one of the guys suggested going to a party, and Alfred declined because he was gonna hang out with you. That one guy reminded him of the 'bros before hoes' rule, and Alfred just..."

He half-chuckled and half-huffed at the same time, running a hand through his hair.

"Alfred just crossed his arms and went all 'yeah but Artie's not a hoe'. I can't believe how sappy that guy can get." He snickered.

And Arthur didn't become any less of the tomato he was before, except his cheeks now burned with embarrassment and appreciation. Sure, Alfred was a sap. Sure, he was practically an innocent child in his mind. But god, it made Arthur so warm inside when Alfred said things like that. He felt so happy.

"Idiot." He finally muttered under his breath, a subconscious smile making his lips twitch upwards.

When he finally raised his gaze again to give his work partner some more tape, he noticed the garland over their lights slightly drooping, the masking tape not being enough to support it.

"Wait." He called, slipping the roll of tape on his wrist like a bracelet and trying to push on the garland to make it stick. Unfortunately, the weight dragged it down, and it started falling off completely. "Tch."

Arthur clicked his tongue, displeased and grabbed his roll of tape to cut some to add some on the garland. Unfortunately, the garland very quickly drooped, and before he even had a chance to add tape, it fell.

Arthur gave a startled noise as the shiny blue garland fell on his head, draping across his shoulders and curling loosely around his throat.

The football jock snickered at his shocked expression and kept hanging the lights, unaware of Arthur's predicament.

Arthur took a shuddering breath and dropped the duct tape, eyes wide in horror. The small strips of blue and white plastic that made up the garland tickled his exposed throat, roughly caressing and gently scratching the pale skin as they fluttered.

_"The hands the bruises the fingers the blood the horror help me stop it why me why stop it I'm sorry stop stop stop-" _

He shakily reached up and grabbed onto the offending object around his throat and all but ripped it off, throwing it violently to the ground.

_"The hands are still there let me go I haven't done anything wrong please stop it I'm so sorry why am I not enough for you I'm a good boy please let me go why are your hands still there let go-" _

His breathing picked up. The world blurred. His mind was shutting down. He didn't want to feel the horrid feeling of helplessness again. He had to stop. He wanted to stop. He couldn't stop. He just wanted to be left alone. Why wouldn't the hands and the nightmares leave him alone?

He stumbled back against the wall and slid down, unsuccessfully trying to prevent himself from hyperventilating. A smaller conscious part of his mind was telling him that all the getup was unnecessary, but the rest of his subconscious didn't agree.

The crawling skin, the gentle, lethal touches, the drowning, choking, desperate feeling, why did they keep coming back? Why wouldn't they go away?

"Arthur? Hey, man, you okay?"

Fear was bubbling up in Arthur's throat. His eyes had blanched over, unfocused, wide, and terrified. He couldn't move, couldn't speak. Why did he feel so detached? Like he wasn't even in his own body anymore?

"Arthur, hey, say something!"

_"Falling into the darkness why can't I breathe let me go it's because of you it's because of me it's all because of me I can't breathe I don't want to die let me go get your hands off of me let me go, let me go, LET ME GO!" _

Arthur screamed.

Panic broke out in the room.

First, Michelle, who noticed him crying hysterically, came running up, taking Francis along with her. Then, a couple of guys who had come to borrow tape decided to stick around. Slowly, a small crowd had formed around him, trying to figure out why he had suddenly broken down like that.

They all asked him what was wrong, but couldn't they see? Everything was wrong. Why wouldn't they help him? Didn't they know he was hurting?

But he wasn't telling them. They couldn't help him if they didn't know what to help him with. Maybe he should tell them.

Maybe he shouldn't.

He knew who to talk to, though. He had to find someone to pull him back into his body. He couldn't even feel himself anymore. It was just a broken shell of himself crying on the floor at that moment. His spirit was drifting away.

He knew who could bring him back to reality, though.

"Alfred." He shakily whispered through his sobbing. "Alfred." And he felt really awkward for crying Alfred's name like a little boy for his mommy, but he needed him, and he acknowledged it. He wasn't strong enough yet. Not yet. Until he was, he needed Alfred to be there.

"I texted him, let's hope he gets here soon." Someone from the crowd around him said, rousing mutters. Everyone was talking. Why were they talking? Were they talking about him? Were they disgusted by him? Understandable.

But he couldn't stop himself from looking so pitiful, so weak.

"Are you hurt?" Francis calmly asked, kneeling next to him.

Arthur nodded because yes, he was hurting. Everywhere. And it wouldn't stop.

"Where?"

He wouldn't tell them. Not yet. They couldn't know about his problematic life yet.

"I see." Francis sighed, gently rubbing circles in Arthur lower back. Arthur shivered at the contact from someone who wasn't Alfred, but appreciated the gesture. It helped him hang onto reality for a bit more.

A bit more was all he needed.

"Alright, everyone, step aside."

The whispers hushed down, and almost immediately, a small path opened up, showing Alfred standing there, looking blank.

"Okay, so pizza's on the table, pepperoni for everyone, vegetarian for Michelle and Francis, cheese for whoever feels like it. Help yourselves and don't make a mess, okay?" he smiled as if nothing had ever happened and stepped forward.

Eyes followed him until he reached Arthur's side and knelt.

"So. Tell me what happened?"

Arthur looked up at him with wide, teary eyes and sniffled. His lower lip quivered as he tried forming coherent sentences, but failed. He just wanted the hands to go away. Alfred could make them go away, couldn't he? He would. Arthur was sure he could.

Without another word, he lunged at Alfred and buried his face in his school uniform.

Alfred gently put his hands around him and smiled lightly, morbid joy welling up in his heart. He didn't want Arthur to be sad, nor look so panicked, but he felt so _good _knowing that he was the only one whom Arthur trusted enough to hang on to.

He loved Arthur, Arthur was his, all his, and he was Arthur's. They didn't need anyone else as long as they had each other, right?

The dark smile that was rising up on his face fell in mid-formation, replaced by a heavy frown. Alfred sighed, both at Arthur's 'relapse' and his own thoughts.

Arthur trusted him. He couldn't abuse that trust. Arthur wouldn't be able to bear another betrayal. Alfred loved him too much to betray him.

"Breathe." He whispered, rubbing Arthur's back soothingly.

"Hands." Arthur whispered. "Still there. Get them off."

"No one's going to hurt you, Arthur. I'm here now." Alfred replied, close enough so that only he could hear him.

"C-Can't breathe. D-Don't want to die. Why won't it stop?" Arthur muffled his whimpers in Alfred's uniform, the absolute silence around him shamefully washing over his trembling form. How pathetic. How weak.

He hated being judged.

"Alright guys, I didn't get that pizza for nothing. Go eat, we still have a whole bunch of work to finish." Alfred looked up, staring pointedly at the mass of hushed, worried students.

Slowly, the small assembly dispersed, going for the food while occasionally throwing looks back at them. At least they had the decency to read the atmosphere and understand that they weren't needed.

"Okay, Artie. Just breathe. Slow and deep. You're okay." Alfred hummed, closing his eyes and holding Arthur gently in his arms.

"I'm okay..." Arthur repeated mechanically, tightening his grip on Alfred's clothes. "I'm okay."

"Yeah." Alfred nodded, relief bursting in his heart as he listened to Arthur's steadying breaths.

Once he was sure that the older boy would not start hyperventilating, Alfred slowly pecked his cheek and gently helped him to his feet.

"Want to go sit down and eat something?" Alfred asked absently, surveying the room with his eyes. The work was almost over, and everything looked dazzling. Arthur really had outdone himself.

"Go home." Arthur whispered, blankly staring at the ground. "I want to go home." He gripped Alfred tighter.

"Are you sure?" Alfred blinked in surprise, looking down at his boyfriend to weigh his reactions.

"Take me home. Please." Arthur repeated, blinking sluggishly. "Tired. So tired."

"Okay. We'll go home. Sit here while I give some instructions here and there." Alfred nodded, gently helping Arthur down on a chair. Arthur still had that faraway look in his eyes, trained on the ground and away from Alfred.

Alfred made a move to leave, but found that he couldn't, with Arthur refusing to let up his grip.

"Baby, I have to go tell Francis to finish up."

"Don't go." Arthur whispered. "Not you too. Don't leave."

"I'm not leaving. Give me a minute, okay?" Alfred gently pried Arthur's shaking hand off of his shirt and gently kissed every single one of his fingers. "I promise. I'll be back in a second."

Arthur didn't reply, but cradled his hand against his chest.

Alfred sighed sadly, and quickly jogged towards Francis.

"Hey Frenchie." He called, interrupting the hushed conversation he was having with Michelle. "Arthur's not feeling good. I'm taking him home." He quickly informed him.

"What's wrong with our _rosbif _?" Francis asked, worry seeping into his tone.

"Nothing. Just some complications of an accident a while back. Nothing to concern yourselves with." Alfred brushed it off too quickly to be subtle. "Anyways, I trust you can finish up here, and if you can't, just leave it to us, we'll come earlier tomorrow to finish. We'll see you."

"Alright, leave it to me. I'll see you tomorrow, Alfred." Francis nodded, eyes darkening. "And... take care of Arthur, okay?"

Alfred, who had already started walking away, froze in his steps and slowly turned around. A small, worried smile slowly melted onto his face.

"Yeah. I'm trying."

And he quickly stalked off again.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

**Can you say heavy psychological dependency?**

**"Calme tes fesses" means "Calm your ass" (It's something my friends and I say when one of us gets too worked up or excited. Actually, we say "Calm yo tits!" but "Calme tes seins" sounded... awkward xD)**

**Arthur's psych:**** Arthur's body takes the term "self-defence" quite literally. It all but shuts down when he goes into a traumatic relapse or a panic attack, so that it won't have to feel the effects of it. So if not pulled back quickly enough, Arthur can become a vegetable for a short period of time.**

**So... if you hadn't realized by now that their relationship wasn't healthy, then now you have. Big punch of this story, guys: Arthur's psychologically dependent on Alfred. Don't take it lightly, though, psychological dependence can be a very serious issue. Simply put, if Alfred's not there, Arthur feels too alone to think straight and loses his grip on reality.**

**Alfred's psych:**** Alfred's not dramatically possessive of Arthur, or anything. It's just that in his subconscious, it makes him feel so good about himself when Arthur runs to him and him only to be "saved". He convinces himself it's not right to say that, but deep inside in the recesses of his heart, he feels powerful, and he likes it (If this were Persona4... I'm sure someone can guess what Shadow Alfred would be like. Haha, anyone who gets this reference wins at life). Coupled with his hero complex, Arthur's and his relationship could become dangerous for his mind, too, if it went on untreated.**

**Also, with the before-last sentence, you can tell that the way Arthur is acting is taking a toll on him, too. He just doesn't know what to do anymore. He keeps treating the symptoms, but can't succeed in treating the problem itself. You can tell he's getting somewhat hopeless and pressured.**

**The USUK Relationship:**** By personal experience, I know that teenagers are extremely influenced by movies and media and do pretty much whatever sounds okay to them at the moment, to copy what they see in the media. So basically, since Arthur LOOKS okay, Alfred didn't think of getting him to a therapist. Also because with the winter dance and everything, they figured they'd have to concentrate on that first, since Arthur's condition wasn't visibly critical anymore. And yes, guys, a therapist will be suggested to them, don't worry. They can't possibly heal alone. **

**I kinda intended to show how teenagers don't pay always attention to problems in depth. Alfred thinks he's doing a good job helping Arthur get better, Artie's convinced Al's helping him get better, with that mutual trust going on in between them, they don't realize that maybe an uninvolved third party is required to deal with things. I wanted to show how even if they think everything's okay, it's not, and they can't do much for Arthur's FULL recovery without the outside help of trained professionals and adults.**

**Yeah, that's about it for this chapter. Hope you liked despite the gloominess of it ;w; Please make me happy and review~? I've got... snow for you~ (Oh Canadian winters, how I love thee and thy 4 inches of snow =w= )**


	17. Surface

**Author's Notes:**

**Bweeee, you guys make my life. Just sayin'. Big thanks to Nitengale, AFreezingFlame, dawnfire216, Izu3039, animefangirl55, SpiritoftheMapleLeaf, Rainstorm-Mosspath, Myst-G, baconis1priority, sherphy, xXxPrettyinPinkxXx, Mew Bubblegum, irene n valley, yanoe,Lady Skorpio, Apple-Cola, Trumpet-Geek, SOSVampire, XXxxNaRu-ChAnxxXX, Waytomuchadoaboutnothing, Pureh, RainingHearts4Ever, SamuraiSal1, Pychopathic Robot 9, ShadowEntity and Mocha MintCocoa for their GORGEOUS reviews. I love you all. I really do ^^  
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**yanoe: [[J'aime tellement la neige, c'est vraiment beau ^^ J'étais très triste quand on n'en a pas eu en janvier cette année. Mais au moins, là il y a de la neige en abondance. **

**Non, je n'ai jamais pris de cours de psychologie (ils n'en offrent pas au secondaire, malheureusement D: ), et je ne pense pas en prendre bientôt, donc je suis en train de tout deviner les comportements d'Alfred et d'Arthur ;w; La psychologie, ce n'est pas vraiment quelque chose que j'aimerais nécessairement étudier, c'est plutôt quelque chose qui pique ma curiosité, donc avec cette histoire, j'ai décidé de voir comment je me débrouillais avec la psychologie sans avoir acquis de connaissances antérieures :I**

**En tout cas, merci beaucoup encore une fois pour de si charmants commentaires, c'est toujours très apprécié! ]]  
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**This chapter was edited to HetaOni soundtracks. So go listen to them. GO. NAO. Listen to the ones called "Soldiers" and "The god of melodicspeedmetal" xDD Oh god, HetaOni is so beautiful ;A; JRGBERU I NEED MORE.  
><strong>

**No big warnings, just some swearing and a tiny bit of blood (just for the hell of putting up warnings, y'know). This chapter is just another "filler", it only serves to deepening the relationship between Al and Artie. OP for this request wanted a lot of fluff after the angst, so I obliged~ Enjoy the USUK!**

* * *

><p>"Arthur. Arthur. Arthur. Arthur."<p>

Arthur groaned, a steady ache in his upper arm rousing him from his sleep.

"Artie. Artie. Artie. Artie."

Ugh, what was that obnoxious noise constantly buzzing in his ears? He was just fine in his dreamless sleep, with no noises to bother.

"Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart."

What? Who in hell could be calling him a sweetheart? And god, what was that annoying pain in his upper arm?

Slowly, Arthur blinked, wincing when the light hit his eyes. He looked down a bit, finally realizing that it was Alfred calling his name and poking his upper arm. Great.

"Limey. Limey. Limey. Lim-"

"WHAT." Arthur growled out, glaring at Alfred. Alfred raised his gaze a bit and met his boyfriend's before bursting out into giggles and ducking out of Arthur's view. Arthur blinked incredulously, wondering what the hell had just happened, before Alfred popped back up and waved.

"Hi." He grinned innocently.

Arthur looked at him for a second, then sighed and turned around, cuddling back into his blankets. Great. Now he had to work on getting back to sleep. Stupid world. Stupid sleep. Stupid Alfred.

"Wait, you can't go back to sleep!" Alfred quickly interjected, jumping on top of Arthur and forcing a heavy gasp from him. "Today's Saturday!"

"... And why should I care asides from the fact that this sudden revelation is keeping me away from sweet dreamless sleep?" Arthur groaned, twisting onto his back and staring up at Alfred.

"Saturday, you know. Winter dance in the evening? Super event you worked so hard to organize?" Alfred deflated slightly, the cowlick on his head seeming to droop a bit.

"Hmm." Arthur replied noncommittally, turning around and making himself comfortable again. Sleep tugged at his body again, and he was just about to drift off again when he finally registered Alfred's words.

Winter dance.

That evening.

Still not finished organizing.

Oh.

"SHIT!" his eyes suddenly flew open and he sat up so hard, he hit his forehead against Alfred's, who was on all four over him.

"Ow!" they both cried out at the same time, each one going to nurse their own forehead. That would most certainly leave a mark.

"Why do you have to have such a hard head?" Alfred whined, rubbing the red mark in the middle of his face.

"Why did you have to be standing there when I decided to sit up?" Arthur groaned in response, imitating Alfred's movements.

"Because you wouldn't wake up." Alfred pouted.

"I didn't want to."

"I had to make you. We're not done making the food and the Christmas tree's not completely decorated yet."

"We could have done it later."

"We have less than half a day to get things done."

"We'll make it."

"We won't."

"I hate you."

"Love you too."

"Alright, alright, I'm up." Arthur sighed after silently glaring at Alfred for a bit.

"Good, I made breakfast, it's nine in the morning, party starts at five, school opens at ten, we have fruit platters to finish and cake to pick up from the bakery, Christmas tree's almost done and the DJ's coming for sound check around four. Any questions, comments or objections?" Alfred quickly counted off his fingers, looking proud of himself.

"Yes, question." Arthur raised his hand sarcastically. "Would you please be a dear and get off me? I can't feel my legs. And put some pants on while you're at it."

Alfred blinked at him, then blushed, chuckling sheepishly. Slowly, he slid off of Arthur's lap and stood up, self-consciously pulling his shirt down over his boxers.

"In my defence, I just woke up as well." He muttered.

"Overruled." Arthur yawned, stretching and getting out of bed. "Now go get dressed, we should get done with the food soon and get to school afterwards." He stopped and looked lovingly at Alfred for a bit before gently pushing him off towards the stairs. "Come on, now. Scram." He hesitated a bit. "And... Thanks for being the personal agenda. I appreciate it."

Alfred simply pecked him on the tip of his nose and walked up the stairs with a smile on his face.

The two quickly dressed and met up in the kitchen, where Alfred's mom was already making breakfast. The smell of eggs and bacon wafted through the doorsill and assailed their senses even before they stepped foot into the wide, bright room.

"Good morning, Alfred, Arthur." Amelia called, turning around to smile at them.

"Morning, mum."

"Good morning, Mrs Jones."

"So formal." Amelia laughed, ruffling Arthur's hair as he passed by. "Haven't I told you to call me 'mom' as well? Or at least, Amelia?"

Arthur swallowed nervously and looked down, feet shuffling awkwardly. Yes, Amelia had told him to treat her as his own mother, but... He didn't know. It had been so long since he'd called _anyone_ his mother, and... His heart lurched at the simple thought.

He still was so unsure. So nervous. So scared. So confused. He didn't think that such drastic changes were necessary, not when so many other changes had twisted his life in such a small period of time already.

No. No mother yet. He had no father, no mother, but he had a brother, a boyfriend, friends, and two wonderful adults who _cared_ about his wellbeing. He was just fine being orphaned if it meant gaining his wonderful entourage in return.

"Yeah. Sorry, Amelia." He finally muttered under his breath, turning around and going for the fridge.

No, there was no time to have spiritual debates with himself right now. He had work to do. The spiritual debates could wait until he closed his eyes and dreamed that night.

By the time he was done talking to himself, Alfred had already pulled everything they needed out of the fridge and had set them on the counter. Shaking himself out of his early-morning trance, Arthur grabbed knifes and cutting boards, joining Alfred behind the counter to work on the fruits.

As they started up with the melon, cutting the large fruit into tiny, bite-sized pieces, Alfred swung his hip and bumped Arthur's.

Arthur blushed and glared at Alfred, who simply grinned back and took a mouthful of the eggs he had in a plate next to him.

A moment later, Alfred bumped Arthur's hip again, humming happily.

Arthur sighed and ignored him, continuing his previous task.

Eager to get a response out of him, Alfred tried again. The last straw broke with the last bump, and Arthur suddenly found himself bumping Alfred back, a small grin on his face.

"No fair." Alfred chuckled, returning the bump.

"I'm just returning the favour." Arthur shrugged, trying to look innocent.

"You lovely little devil, you." Alfred stuck a tongue out at him and poked his stomach.

"Stupid loveable git." Arthur huffed, practically jabbing his index in Alfred's hard abs. His finger hurt after that. Alfred didn't even look winded.

"Stuffy adorable Brit."

"Annoying upbeat American."

"Beautiful stuck-up limey."

"Amazing idiot Yankee."

"MANIFEST DESTINY!" Alfred suddenly yelled, dropping his knife and half-melon on the chopping board and practically jumping on Arthur, hugging him tight.

"Rule Britannia." Arthur growled back, elbowing Alfred in the gut in a half-hearted effort to get him off.

"Special Relationship." Alfred smiled, leaning over him and bumping his nose, his fingers delicately prying the knife out of his grip.

Arthur looked at him for a second, marvelling, wondering how such a beautiful man could exist, why such a beautiful man had chosen him. Of eyes so blue and a soul so pure, quasi-perfection reached its peak within the warm body he held in his arms.

"Yeah." Arthur breathed, closing his eyes delightedly. He felt Alfred shiver when his hot breath caressed his lips and gently locked his hands behind his neck. "It's a special relationship, alright."

The only warning he got before the tender kiss that followed was the delightful feel of Alfred's breathy chuckle against his cheek.

The two shared a couple of gentle kisses, forehead against forehead, the world forgotten, sweet nothings escaping in the brief seconds between their touches. And when the novelty of kisses faded away for the moment being, they closed their eyes and breathed deep.

True perfection did not exist.

But the moment they shared was pretty damn close to it.

"Boys, boys, boys." A sigh suddenly broke their reverie apart, prompting both of them to open their eyes and untangle themselves from the other. "Working. You're doing it wrong." Amelia's voice chided as she raised a spatula threateningly at them.

"Sorry, mum. Got carried away." Alfred smiled sweetly, squeezing one of Arthur's hands before going back to his melon-cutting duties.

Arthur muttered something that distinctively sounded like a 'yeah, well, I regret nothing' and decided to get all the work done once and for all. After tonight, he wouldn't have to worry until the Valentine's Day party.

Two months' worth of reprieve. He could deal with that.

Giddy with the idea that he would finally get a break after that night, Arthur hummed a song as he sped up his fruit-cutting. Despite the fact that he'd promised himself not to get distracted anymore, it wasn't long before he found himself in yet another mundane situation.

"Ouch!" he yelped, dropping his knife and putting his finger in his mouth by reflex as an all-too familiar, metallic heat invaded his tongue. May cutting knives forever burn in hell. Amen.

"You okay?" And of course, Alfred was there in a second, pulling the finger out of Arthur's mouth to inspect it. Fat, shiny drops of blood were rolling off the centimetre-wide cut, dribbling down Arthur's, and now also Alfred's, hand.

"Just a cut. I've had worse." Arthur hissed. Nevertheless, small cuts like these were the ones that hurt worst, for some reason.

"Here." Alfred chuckled, gently kissing his finger. "All better now."

"How old do you think I am, five?" Arthur blushed, wrenching his hand away and cradling it to his chest. He didn't dare meet Alfred's eyes for he knew that the usual cheery glint would be looking back at him if he did.

"You're so cute when you blush." Alfred chuckled, ruffling his boyfriend's hair lovingly and drawing another indignant yelp out of him. "I'll go get a bandaid. Stay put, Artie."

"M'name's not Artie." Arthur muttered, sticking his finger back into his mouth to at least contain the blood that had now stained both his hands and some of his shirt.

Damn. For a cut, it sure did bleed a lot.

"Back." Alfred announced, strutting into the kitchen with a bandaid held high over his head, as if he'd just won the Grammy award for 'most loveable git ever'.

"Lovely, now please get your butt and that bandaid over here because I think I'm going to faint now." Arthur huffed, kidding.

Apparently, Alfred didn't get the joke because he was as white as the vegetable dip Arthur had made a couple of days ago when he looked up.

"R-Really?"

"No. But get over here anyway."

Chuckling nervously and muttering self-deprecating comments under his breath, Alfred sauntered over to Arthur and grabbed his hand, trying to find the cut underneath the mess of blood.

"Dude. Did the knife go through all the way, or something?" he asked in concern, wiping over the cut with a wet towel paper.

"No. But it will go all the way through you if you don't hand over that bandaid right away." Arthur snapped, looking away.

He didn't want Alfred to look so concerned. It was just a cut. Why such worry? Didn't he believe that Arthur could take care of himself? Was he nothing but a porcelain doll to Alfred?

Would he have to distance himself to show him that he, as well, was independent?

He liked Alfred's proximity, he loved being cared for, he loved... being loved... But he wasn't a glass sculpture. He didn't want to be. Knowing himself, he most probably was. Nothing but a glass sculpture, doomed to fall over at the slightest gust of wind.

He hated being fragile. He hated himself for being fragile. But he couldn't bring himself to hate Alfred for making him feel fragile. He loved him. He couldn't hate him. So he hated himself, instead.

"It's okay, it'll stop soon." He muttered sadly, unwilling to meet Alfred's eyes. He wasn't even sure if he was talking about the blood anymore.

"You okay?" Alfred asked in concern, raising a thin brow in doubt.

"I just told you, it should stop soon." Arthur made a move to turn around to leave. Fuck working. He was tired. A little break wouldn't hurt.

"No, Arthur." Alfred stopped him, gently tugging him by the arm and forcing him to turn back. Arthur never did meet his eyes. "I meant it. Are you okay?"

Arthur didn't reply, but finally looked up, gaze blank, as if lost.

"Why?"

And Alfred didn't reply at first, because so many different answers came up. He wasn't even sure what the question meant. He didn't want to disappoint Arthur by giving the wrong answer.

He didn't know that for Arthur, there was no wrong answer, as long as he was the one giving it.

"Because I care about you." He finally tried a small smile, gently tugging Arthur into his arms and letting the smaller body cuddle against his chest. "A lot. And I love you. A lot. I love taking care of you. A lot."

Arthur didn't say another word on the subject until much, much later in the afternoon.

"I want a chance to do the same to you."

It took a few seconds for Alfred to realize that Arthur had spoken to him. Blinking in confusion, he turned away from the impressive sight of the now-decorated Christmas tree and towards his boyfriend.

"What was that, Artie?"

"I said... I want a chance... to do the same to you." Arthur blushed, pretending to look absorbed with the technical crew's bustling to avoid looking at Alfred.

"Do what to me?" Alfred blinked again, utterly confused. Had he missed something?

"Help you." Arthur whispered after a few seconds. "You're always helping me and taking care of me. I... I want to see... I want to feel... I want to know what makes helping others so satisfactory." He looked down, as if ashamed.

Alfred blinked at him again before letting a smile stretch his face. Ignoring the fact that they were in the middle of the gym, he threw his arms around Arthur and pressed a sloppy, wet kiss to his cheek.

"You're so adorable!" he squee'd in a very unmanly fashion, chuckling as Arthur wiped the wet mark on his cheek with a wince.

"I'm not adorable." He muttered, looking away.

Realizing that Arthur's mood wasn't right, Alfred slid closer and brushed his fingers against his, looking in the opposite direction.

"I like caring for you. It makes me happy. Don't even think for a single moment that I feel obliged to do any of this." He muttered sneakily, trying to keep the telltale smile off his face.

"I want to care for you, too." Arthur muttered back, looking at the wall and trying to keep his face cool.

"You are. There is no blood to clean, but you're taking care of my poor, neglected heart with your presence." Alfred attempted, chuckling when Arthur turned sharply towards him and raised an incredulous brow.

"... What?"

"Nothing, sorry. Attempting poetry, since I know you're so fond of it."

"Valiant effort, but 'tis for naught." Arthur clicked his tongue before smirking at him. "Just you wait. I'll find blood to clean up someday, even if I have to be the one stabbing you." He announced before strutting off in satisfaction.

Alfred gulped down from his spot and tried to conjure the blood back into his face, from where it had magically disappeared at Arthur's words. He stared at his boyfriend's retreating back before gulping down and trying to put on a nonchalant act.

"Y-Yeah, well... You keep trying." He called after him, whipping around and trying to find something to do. Arthur wasn't serious, right?

And then, he remembered how Arthur even went to the point of abusing himself in order to reach his goals. Someone else wouldn't have been a problem for him.

Well, crap.

Now he'd have to banish all cutting knives from entering the house.

Stupid knives, always causing trouble for them.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

**I don't even know what this chapter was. Just some boring blablabla to make the transition towards the last chapter (OMFG, IS THAT THE NEXT ONE? NOOOO).**

**What is a Hetalia fic without any historic references? ;)**

**Okay guys, shameless plug time. _DO YOU LIKE TO ROLEPLAY HETALIA?_ Then come check out Terra Sigma, an interactive ZombieApocalypse!AU I created not long ago! It hasn't been long since its creation, so there aren't many members yet (pretty much all the Nations are still available), but if you guys like roleplaying (WITH ME~), please come check out Terra Sigma at **

**www(dot)terrasigma(dot)proboards(dot)com **

**Just replace all the (dot)s with an actual "." and if you want, a direct link can be found on my profile, at the bottom~**

**Asides that, there's nothing much to say. Thank you so much for sticking this far with me, and I hope the last chapter won't disappoint! Please review, even thought here isn't much to say about this chapter ;w; I LIVE ON REVIEWS, SO PREASE REVIEW (And check out the RP forum ;D).**


	18. Alive

**Author's Notes:**

**As usual, a huuuuge thanks to everybody who reviewed (AND A BIGGER THANKS TO EVERYBODY WHO CHECKED THE FORUM OUT ^^), so that would be animefangirl55, Pychopathic Robot 9, Briarshade, USUK 8D, Nitengale, XXxxNaRu-ChAnxxXX, sherphy, SpiritoftheMapleLeaf, baconis1priority, OtakuGirl13258, SOSVampire, Teh AWESOME Me, ShadowEntity, Tabbyprincess, Waytomuchadoaboutnothing, ninjakat405, SamuraiSal1, xXxPrettyinPinkxXx, irene n valley and Rainstorm-Mosspath~**

**And just because I can, I'm gonna advertise mah sexy forum again, because I know you guys love me enough not to mind my shameless plugs.**

**So it's still the same concept, zombieapocalypse!AU Hetalia RP forum, and right now, we most of all need a Sweden and Finland, Asians, Russia/Ukraine, Australia/NZ, and much more. So come check the forum out at **

**www(dot)terrasigma(dot)proboards(dot)com**

**Okie dokie, I'm done ^^ Onto the story. All the chapter names in this story are connected two by two, but can anybody guess which chapter this chapter is linked to and why? Cookie if you try, three cookies if you get it right! Asides that... last chapter, you guys ;A; Nooo~ But... enjoy~  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"So... How are you feeling?"<p>

"Panicky."

Alfred blinked in confusion, watching over Arthur's shoulder as the latter looked around the large, decorated gymnasium and then checked boxes on the list in his hands.

"How so?" he asked, looking around and noting that the gym looked close to perfect.

"It's an apprehensive feeling. Like I know something's gonna go wrong. It always does." Arthur muttered, ticking off the 'food' box as he noticed the veggies being put on the buffet table.

"Don't worry so much. You've planned so thoroughly that nothing could possibly go wrong." Alfred ruffled his hair, to which Arthur replied by flipping it back into place.

"It's like the feeling of a movie's dramatic climax approaching, and you don't know what's coming and you're wondering why you're heart's beating so fast." Arthur sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly for a moment.

"Or simply like the feeling a parent has watching their child grow up." Alfred quietly added, trailing his arms around Arthur's waist from behind and putting his forehead against his shoulder.

"That, too." Arthur muttered, rubbing his forehead wearily as he ticked off the last checkbox.

"Well, I'm hungry." Alfred nodded smartly, detaching himself from Arthur to stretch. "And you are, too, judging by the sounds your tummy is making."

"I'm not hungry, Alfred. I still have last-minute sound test to pass and the ticket-gate to get to before opening time." Arthur shook his head.

"What does any of that have to do with not being able to eat?" Alfred frowned.

"I don't have time, Alfred. Guests will be arriving in half an hour, and everything must be perfect for when they arrive." Arthur shook his head, striding towards the stage where Francis and the technical crew were working in unison.

"I could just grab you a sandwich, you can eat it while you-"

"No, Alfred, I don't have time for distractions. If you're hungry, help yourself to some sandwiches on the buffet table, but I can't eat right now."

"B-But what about your tummy? It's rumbling, it must mean-"

"Alfred, my stomach isn't rumbling, perhaps it is simply the sound of yours echoing in your ears." Arthur sighed, flipping the paper on his clipboard to access another checkbox list for the technical inventory.

"Arthur, you haven't eaten, though, and I don't want-"

"I ate this morning at home, Alfred, I'll be fine."

"But Artie-"

"Listen, Alfred, I can't eat right now, so please just stop-" Arthur started, only to be interrupted mid-sentence by Alfred's strong arms drawing him roughly to the other's chest.

"No, you stop! You listen, Arthur!" Alfred all but yelled, holding Arthur close and taking the time to feel his boyfriend's heartbeat pound against his chest.

"Alfred, I-"

"I know you're anxious, I know you want everything to work out, but please." He drew back a bit and gently took him by the upper arms. His eyes glinted with sincerity, and Arthur couldn't help but feel captivated by how utterly blue they were.

Even after all this time, he still couldn't get over how perfect Alfred was.

"Please don't push yourself anymore. You've done amazing, and you still are, but take some time to take care of yourself, too. There isn't just 'everybody else' in this world, there's also you." Alfred muttered, pushing a couple of strands of hair out of Arthur's face.

Arthur had the decency to look guilty and turn his gaze away.

"But... I don't have time, you have to understand..." Arthur was cut off when Alfred gently set a finger over his lips to hush him up, giving him a sad, understanding smile.

"Don't worry, I'll go buy us lunch from outside and be back in a jiffy. Love you!" he then quickly pecked Arthur's cheek and ran off before his boyfriend had the time to retaliate. He left Arthur standing there, marvelling as the pleasant feeling of the quick kiss on his cheek and wondering what the hell a 'jiffy' was.

When Alfred came back with a bag of Indian takeout in his arms, he found Arthur yelling at the microphone, which seemed to be having volume problems. The technical support crew was buzzing around at the DJ's corner, trying to get the volume higher while Arthur stood there, occasionally saying something and looking extremely pale.

"Hello, fair maiden, I am back with food!" Alfred announced as he walked up to Arthur and shook the bag of food he was holding.

"Alfred..." Arthur whispered in the microphone, his heart melting at the sight of the familiar grin.

He suddenly bristled, though, when his eyes went to the clock behind Alfred. Ten minutes.

"GODDAMNIT, ALFRED, YOU'RE LATE! You were supposed to help me with sound check so we could finish earlier and now we're going to be late and it'll be all because you got hungry!" Arthur yelled into the mic, making the newly-fixed contraption amplify his voice and make everybody in the gym wince.

"Volume problem's fixed..." one of the techies in the back muttered once the awkward silence had fallen.

"Oh, come on, Artie, I'm just taking care of you." Alfred smiled, catching up with Arthur as he placed the microphone in its stand and walked off to attend to his last-minute business.

"Much appreciated, Al, but I'd rather if you let me work for a bit. I'm almost done, and we don't have much time left." Arthur replied coldly, walking just as briskly towards the table with all the prizes for the draw at the end.

"Just let Francis work a bit. You have plenty of volunteers to help, too. You'll be fine." Alfred smiled, shaking his paper bag.

"Sorry, Alfred. Can't." Arthur shook his head, rifling through the draw prizes and counting them in his head.

"I'm not taking no for an answer, y'know." Alfred replied and snaked his arms around Arthur's waist, tugging him away.

Arthur gave a sharp cry and started struggling, swearing occasionally under his breath. His elbow hit Alfred in the gut a couple of times, but the taller boy didn't even seem fazed. Instead, he dragged him to a chair and plopped him down, sitting on his lap gently and grinning.

"Food now. Work later." He announced, digging into his paper bag and pulling out a Styrofoam box of what smelled like curry.

"Alfred, you know I can't, I've been telling you this since forever. The doors open in seven minutes, that's hardly enough time to-" Alfred cut him off by shoving a forkful of curry rice into his mouth, making him cough and choke.

"Good, isn't it? It's from my favourite Indian place, not far from here." Alfred smiled, completely ignoring his previous ramblings.

"Alfred, stop trying to kill me and let me go." Arthur muttered half-heartedly, swallowing and savouring the extremely welcome food after having dislodged the rice from his wind pipe.

As if sensing his hesitation in front of the much-needed nourishment, Alfred simply smiled wider.

"Come on, Artie. Eat up as much as you want. Six minutes." He winked, handing him the box and fork and staring expectantly.

Arthur couldn't deny that his hunger, having been brought to his attention, was gnawing uncomfortably at him. Fine. Five minutes.

Alfred watched with enthusiastic adoration as Arthur devoured his meal, grinning when the other blond put his box down and sighed in relief. Bits of rice and splatters of sauce smudged the corners of his lips, and Alfred felt momentarily compelled to lick them off. Then again, Arthur might find that gross and might not appreciate the gesture. Oh well, he'd already found another way of getting his kiss.

"Okay, I ate." Arthur announced, not mentioning him how much _better _he felt now. "Can you get off? It's almost opening time."

"Yeah, I'll move. Just saying, though, you smell like curry. Badly." Alfred grinned, digging through his pocket and pulling out a chewy mint candy. Arthur blushed madly and eyed him enviously as he unwrapped the candy and froze as Alfred put it in between his lips.

Oh no. He did not just go there. Not in public.

"You smell~" Alfred taunted evilly, leaning forward. His eyes shone expectantly, amused, and Arthur could smell the comforting peppermint scent of the candy from where he was.

Between public embarrassment and bad breath... he'd go for the former.

"You're a git." He announced as if it were something previously unknown and leaned over, kissing Alfred and snatching the candy from him.

Alfred didn't let him pull away, though, and grabbed his upper arms, pulling him closer and pressing them together. Despite the fact that he never once even thought of breaking through Arthur's tightly closed lips, his mind was running around in circles and spontaneously combusting, only to rise anew from the ashes and repeat the process.

Francis whistled in the background and Alfred blindly gave him the finger.

All too soon for his liking, though, he felt Arthur pull away, chest heaving slightly. All he could do was grin dumbly and enjoy the taste of Arthur and peppermint on his lips before the ephemeral sensation was gone.

"Thanks." Arthur muttered unclearly, closing his eyes and momentarily letting a soft smile brighten his face.

"My pleasure. Love you." Alfred returned the warm smile and finally got off of Arthur lap, bending down to peck him on the lips once more before rising up to his full size. "One minute."

Arthur had zoomed out of his seat before Alfred could even remind him to hurry. Watching the thin figure of the boy he adored so much rush towards the gymnasium doors, Alfred was overcome by a wonderful sensation of warmth and satisfaction. He touched his lips once over with his finger and sighed, collapsing into their chair.

When had things become so perfect?

_...OOOOOOOOOO..._

"It's going great, I think!" Alfred yelled, raising a thumbs up at Arthur as he grabbed him past a throng of dancing students.

"WHAT?" Arthur put a hand against his ear to say he couldn't hear what Alfred was telling him above the volume of the thumping music.

"I said the party's great, you did amazing!" Alfred yelled again, right into Arthur's ear this time. Arthur jumped in his place and swore under his breath, rubbing his ear. As if the pounding beats in the air weren't enough, no, now he had to have yelling in his ear as well.

"Thanks, but it would have given me the same feeling of accomplishment if you hadn't yelled it." He crossed his arms, glaring at Alfred. The latter simply shrugged and gave him a dazzling grin in return, practically lighting up the entire room with his cheeriness. As if feeling the sudden boost of energy, another wave of cheers rippled across the dancing crowd.

One of the students around them suddenly bumped into him, making him lose his balance. Stumbling a few steps, he fell right into Alfred's arms, hitting his hard chest with a gasp.

"Hello, glad to see you missed me." Alfred laughed, nuzzling Arthur's cheek with his.

"Come on, let me go, you big baby! Not in public!" Arthur hissed, not even sure if Alfred had heard him (or if he even had CHOSEN to hear him, for he continued his cuddling nonetheless).

"Loosen up, Artie, practically everyone in the school knows about us now. I bet the guy who pushed you didn't even do it by accident." Alfred shrugged innocently.

"I know, but still!" Arthur blushed, blaming the rising heat on the energy of the crowd around them. "I don't... I don't want them to... I don't know, you and I, we're just..." At a loss of words, he simply huffed and put his hands over his eyes. For a moment, the world disappeared and silence rang true in his mind, before a warm, familiar touch brought him back to reality and noise.

"Come on." Alfred smiled, a bit more sober as he scanned Arthur's conflicted gaze. "Say your thank you speech and let's get out of here. I have to talk to you."

Arthur looked at him for a second, but finding no hint as to what there was to discuss, he sighed and nodded.

"Just let me get to the stage first, and then we'll see about that speech."

Alfred wasted no time in using his freakish strength to practically rip a corridor towards the stage for Arthur. Chuckling appreciatively, Arthur tried to contain his embarrassed blush as he stepped up on the low stage and went for the DJ's workspace.

"I need to make an announcement." He yelled over the DJ's loud music.

The student, one he recognized from the school's music club, looked at him dumbly for a second, as if trying to understand what he was saying. Arthur wasn't surprised, considering the volume of the incessant music. What did surprise him, though, was the fact that the students would NOT be deaf by the end of the night. Such peculiar creatures, these teenagers.

"Announcement." He repeated, pointing at the mic laying still on the side of the mixer board.

The DJ took a second again to finally light up and nod. Slowly, he pulled a switch down, making the level of the music go lower and lower.

More and more faces turned to the stage as the music got lower. By the time it had completely faded away, Arthur had undivided attention despite all the chattering of the student crowd.

"So umm, yeah." He started, clearing his throat and awkwardly staring down at the crowd.

Ah, such social skills. He should apply as a spokesperson in an important company. It would totally do them good.

"Uhh, so, I hope you're enjoying yourselves, and everybody knows I'm not made to say speeches..." a few chuckles rose out from the now lowly muttering crowd. "But Alfred made me, so... Thanks for coming, I guess, I hope everything is to your liking, and I do hope you'll enjoy the rest of the night. In a few moment's time, cake will be served at the buffet table, so head over there if you feel like any. And asides that..." he racked his brains for anything else to say, but, finding nothing, he turned back to the crowd and nervously surveyed their reactions.

From mildly annoyed to wondering to appreciative to smiling, all the faces he could see looked to him as he fumbled around for his words. These people were the ones he was working so hard for. They were the ones he was slaving over to please. They were the people he took so much pleasure and pain in helping live their lives to their fullest.

And, seeing their faces looking up to him for a single moment, he found himself not regretting a single minute of missed sleep spent working for them. Especially when his perfect pair of blue eyes glowed adoringly up at him, for him and only him to see and enjoy.

"Yeah, that's it. Just have fun."

And he finally smiled.

The crowd broke into applause as Arthur turned around and set the mic down on the DJ's table, rushing down the stage with a flustered expression on his face. Anonymous hands clapped him on the back as he made a path through the crowd, and he nodded at random until he finally found the pair of arms that were specially moulded for him.

"You did great, for someone who's socially awkward." Alfred chuckled, kissing his forehead tenderly.

"Thank you, I really appreciate being told I'm awkward." Arthur retorted, blushing even harder. Thankfully for him, the heat in his face was left unseen, hidden by the darkness of the dance floor.

"Anything for you, love. Now, come on. Out we go." Alfred took his hand and ushered him out.

It felt like an immense relief as they stepped out of the gymnasium, taking a breath of (relatively) fresh air as they nodded to some random people who had also decided to take a break in the hallways.

Neither spoke as Alfred led him off into the nearest staircase, stopping at the railing and turning around.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Arthur asked first, refusing to let worry seep into his good mood.

"Well, actually, I'm not really gonna be the one doing the talking." Alfred rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, squeezing Arthur's hand tighter. "It's gonna be you."

"Me?" Arthur asked, raising a brow. He hadn't even been told what the subject at hand was. How could he talk?

"Yeah. Tonight's the winter ball, Artie." Alfred whispered, looking up and looking into Arthur's eyes. Arthur read a mix of worry, apprehension and relief in Alfred's, and mirrored a confused expression in his. "It's been a month." Alfred clarified, smiling encouragingly at him.

And suddenly, Arthur understood what he was supposed to do.

Seeing as he wasn't answering, too busy thinking, Alfred took it upon himself to gently lead Arthur up the stairs, towards the infirmary on the third floor.

_...OOOOOOOOOO..._

Knock, knock.

Elizabeth finished the sentence she was writing and sighed, pulling off her reading glasses and pushing her fringe back behind her ear.

"Come in." She called, turning her attention to the door as it swung open after a moment of hesitation.

She didn't look too surprised when Alfred strode in, practically pulling Arthur along behind him.

"Hello, Nurse Eliza!" Alfred cheerily waved with his free hand, dragging a conflicted-looking Arthur along.

"Hello, Alfred, I trust you are well today?" Eliza gently replied, smiling as she spun around to face them.

"I'm always awesome." Alfred nodded in confirmation.

"Wonderful. How about you, Arthur? Are you feeling alright?"

"Much better, yes, thank you for asking." Arthur nodded, his eyes a bit lost, his gaze a bit empty.

"Great! I'm so happy you two kept your promise to come see me a month from when I saw Arthur last." She clapped enthusiastically.

"Honestly, I wouldn't have remembered had Alfred not reminded me." Arthur blushed, looking down a bit. How could he have forgotten something so important? Alfred must have been so disappointed in him.

"It's cool, I love taking care of you, so it wasn't much of a problem to remind you." Alfred pushed Arthur's fringe up and kissed his forehead gently, making the Brit blush and nervously slap the hand away.

Eliza tried to contain the squee of glee that was threatening to tear out of her throat and felt like she would explode if she didn't let it out. She settled for just whispering a low "aaaaaw~" and putting her hands on her heart.

Too soon, the pair stopped muttering half-hearted threats at each other and turned back to Eliza, brightly blushing.

"Done?" she giggled at their antics, recognizing the many signs of awkward indecision in their relationship. All couples went through that one period of awkwardness once they came together. She'd seen many couples break apart because of the lack of communication, and she hoped, reading the nervousness in their eyes, that the same fate would not befall them.

They looked so happy together.

"Yes Ma'am." Arthur nodded once he and Alfred had stopped.

"Good. Well, I expect you're here for your scheduled check up, am I right?" Eliza got up, heading for Arthur.

"Yeah, it's been a month since... since..." Since what? He couldn't just come out and say 'since I've started living my life' because he'd sound too desperate, too lost, too pitiful, and looking pitiful was the last thing he wanted to do.

"I see." Eliza nodded understandingly, cutting him off to spare him the trouble of finding an appropriate end to his sentence. "Well, if you take your shirt off, we can proceed to the physical examination. The sooner we do this, the better. Then, you can return to whatever you were doing before."

Arthur blushed and wiped the back of his hand self-consciously over his lips.

"Here, I'll help you get out of those clothes." Alfred hummed innocently, tugging on Arthur's shirt.

"Stop it, it's improper." Arthur hissed, throwing a worried in look in Eliza's direction.

"Oh, don't mind me." She waved them off with a suspicious giggle. "You don't have to hide, almost the entire school knows by now."

The teens raised simultaneous brows, but kept going with their task silently. So much for mature adults.

Once Arthur was out of his shirt and sitting on the examination table while Eliza checked him over, Alfred took the time to memorize his appearance.

Arthur looked much better than the last time he'd seen him in this particular position. His skin had gained a bit of colour, despite still being paler than him, and at least now, he wasn't able to count his ribs from far away. They'd have to work on that, though. Arthur was still bony and frail. Perhaps he'd take him to the gym with him during winter vacation.

The physical scars from the accident had disappeared by now, and the mental scars were slowly mending. Despite still having a long way to go, Arthur was making efforts, and they were building a steady relationship, so Alfred was satisfied.

"Alright." Eliza scribbled a few things on her notepad, a gentle smile on her face. "Arthur has done some wonderful progress, but there is more work to be done. He's still a bit under the healthy weight for a teen his age, not too bad, but it would be better if he kept to his '3 full meals a day' diet for a while longer. Also, he might have to consider physical training because he's all skin and bones, and if he eats without doing any physical exercise, he'll accumulate fat. Not that it's very likely, but it's better to start out well." She told Alfred.

"Excuse me, but I love how you're telling all this to Alfred when I'm standing just here." Arthur raised a brow. "May I inquire as to why?"

"Because I'm assuming Alfred's the seme here." Eliza answered innocently. "He's the one taking care of you, so he should know as well."

"I don't need anyone taking care of me!" Arthur huffed, crossing his arms.

"Perhaps not, but... You're gonna need someone if ever you do." The nurse replied a bit more seriously, making Arthur blush.

He didn't need someone to remind him how dependent he was of Alfred.

"Alright, pull your shirt back on and come take a seat. Both of you." Eliza motioned to the two chairs in front of her desk as she went around and sat in her own. "The physical's over, so now, we talk."

Arthur froze in the middle of buttoning his shirt up and bit his lip. What was there left to talk about? What other issues meant to be kept to himself would he have to expose?

The two parties stared at each other for a moment, weighing each other out. You could have heard a fly buzz if there were one in the room. Arthur was starting to get nervous. Alfred was just wondering what the silence was for.

"So Arthur, tell me. How have you been?" Eliza finally asked, clicking her pen.

"Fine." Arthur replied slowly, not sure what was being expected of him.

"Really now? You've been feeling fine?" Eliza asked again.

"Well, you said so yourself, I've healed over, and my vocal cords are back to normal, so I guess-"

"No, your body heals quick, but what about your emotions? How are you coping with everything that's been going on this past month?"

"I'm not made of porcelain. You does everybody keep asking me that?" Arthur huffed, clutching his pants at the knees and blushing.

"You may not think so, but third-party viewers of your life do. You may feel like you're fine, but some signs you just can't pick up on your own." Eliza explained. "So tell me, how have your reactions been?"

"To what?"

"Everything. How do you react to Alfred's family?"

"... I'm... grateful, I guess?" Arthur winced at the word he used. It didn't even start describing how he felt towards them. "And, well, I'm happy because they're so nice and selfless and helped me without asking for anything in return."

"How about your brother? You did only just get to see him after 10 years of separation, and not under the best circumstances, either." The nurse asked, nodding.

"I... I don't know. I'm not too resentful, even if I was at first when he left. At least he's back, and he's the only accessible family I have left, so I guess it's... comforting?" he tried the word out on his tongue, not too sure about it.

"I see. How about your peers, friends, classmates, other acquaintances? Have they reacted to the changes in your life in a way that makes you doubt in your decisions?"

"Not at all!" Arthur quickly answered, because deep down inside, he knew he would never regret anything that had happened in the past month, no matter how bad anyone tried to make him feel about it. "I don't get lots of comments on what happened, anyways. I hope it's not because people think I'm too fragile to relive the memories that come with their inquiries." He crossed his arms and glared at his knees as if it was their fault he was stuck in this slightly uncomfortable conversation.

"No stabs have been made at you recently?" Eliza raised a brow a bit sceptically.

"No..." Alfred nudged him knowingly. "Okay, a few." Arthur discreetly flicked Alfred's thigh, and Alfred barely caught a yelp. "But it's not like I care for general opinion, or anything. And it's not like they're going to tell me how I should feel." He huffed haughtily.

"What a pleasant attitude in the face of criticism." Eliza chuckled pleasantly, noting down a few things. "And... how do you feel about Alfred?"

At the mention of his name, Alfred perked up and smiled innocently, looking at Arthur, expectant. Arthur just blushed and looked away, not daring meet his gaze.

"I... I don't know..." he finally answered in a lower voice than usual. "I'm not sure... I mean, he helped me and took me in when I needed it the most and made me feel... appreciated." His heart flipped at the word. He felt so embarrassed to be talking about something like this.

"Why are you saying all this in the past tense?" Alfred whined childishly, grabbing one of his clenched hands and tangling his fingers with them.

"It's proper grammar, what do you want me to say?" Arthur retorted a bit too highly.

"Speak in the present tense, that's okay grammar too, isn't it?" Alfred pouted, giving Arthur his best kicked puppy look.

"Fine, you're such a big baby." Arthur sighed and shoved his free hand into Alfred's face. Alfred just laughed.

"Okay, so I'm your hero, is that what you're saying?" Alfred grinned brightly.

"Sure, you big-headed git. My hero..." Arthur muttered.

"And what about the relation between you two?" Eliza asked, holding back a squee of glee.

"I love my Artie!" Alfred declared happily, nuzzling his nose into Arthur's cheek affectionately.

"Idiot, stop being so improper!" Arthur hissed, pushing him away a bit half-heartedly.

"At least answer the question, or my heart will break." Alfred threatened with a pout.

"I..." Arthur looked at him for a second, at a loss of words. How could he explain what he felt for Alfred? It was such a complicated feeling. Did it even have a proper term? "I don't know... It's... stirrings. I know how adults make such a big deal out of love and teens just tend to diminish it into some petty temporary interest in someone, but... I hope I love Alfred. I really hope I do." He mumbled fondly, the blush never leaving his cheeks.

"Awwww, you're so sweet, I hope you love me, too!" Alfred cooed, hiding his disappointment. Arthur's words rang true in his heart. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he really did hope that the affection he had for Arthur was the type of lasting affection that he'd one day come to call 'love'.

"Love, really." Eliza sobered down a bit, chewing on the end of the pencil. "You acted out of love when you broke down at Alfred's last football game?"

Arthur opened his mouth to argue back, but immediately realized he had nothing to say. He looked like a fish, the way he opened his mouth and closed it again, and opened it again, wordless. He didn't know what to answer. Anything he answered at this point would be a lie. Alfred didn't like it when he lied.

"I... Don't know." He finally stuttered out, thinking really hard. What really had made him go crazy when Alfred had gotten hurt? Love? Or just... obsession?

"Arthur, do you think you have developed a psychological dependency on Alfred?"

"No." Arthur quickly replied, tensing. Nothing was wrong with him, nothing was wrong, he'd promised himself that he was normal, nothing was wrong, he was fine, he was normal for sure.

"Not even a little?" Eliza asked again, disbelieving.

"No." Arthur answered again, his throat going dry.

"So... You practically became a vegetable because Alfred got hurt, and you're telling me you aren't psychologically dependent on him?"

"I-I don't understand what you mean." Maybe he was taking this the wrong way. Maybe he just understood things wrong. That had to be it. He wasn't a bad person. He was fine.

"Psychological dependency, Arthur, is when you are so subconsciously tied to a person that you need their presence to regulate your life. If they aren't there, you feel scared and alone and you can't live again until the person you are dependent on comes back." Eliza explained sadly, watching as Arthur's eyes flickered with recognition and silent acceptance.

"No." He still replied, shaking his head and gripping Alfred's hand tighter. "I'm not dependent on Alfred. I can do just fine on my own."

"Alfred was the one who helped you when you were in the most traumatizing situation of your life, so you view him as a saviour that can cure all wounds. When he is not there to protect you, you feel open and vulnerable and your mind decides to take matters into its own hands and shuts down to prevent any harm from coming to you."

"It does not."

"Alfred is like a drug to you. You crave his presence, you think you need it to survive, but you don't. You want him, but you don't need him, and that's a very fine line to cross, right there. Just like any drug, the high isn't worth the down. You'll hurt everyone if you don't get some form of rehabilitation, just like any other drug addict."

"I'm NOT a drug addict! Don't compare me to one! And I'm not addicted to Alfred, either!" Arthur seethed.

"The sooner you face the facts, the sooner you can get better."Eliza frowned a bit.

"I'm not sick!" Arthur all but yelled. "I'm not crazy, I'm not dependent, I'm not fucked up in the head!" his voice was lined with desperation he was trying so hard to contain.

"Arthur, calm down." Alfred whispered, a bit shocked. He was glad he was Arthur's anchor to reality, but...

"Arthur, you have to understand that this is unhealthy. If you're going to go all vegetable on us every time Alfred is threatened, you will not only harm yourself, but you will harm Alfred, too. If he felt threatened for any reason, the last he'd need would be you shutting down. You're not crazy, but if you don't sort this out, you might become." Eliza struck deep with sharp words so that Arthur realized how important it was to get rid of this problem.

"It was just one time! It doesn't count!" Arthur exclaimed, unwilling to admit that what Eliza was saying made sense. He didn't want to be a burden. He didn't want to hurt Alfred. He didn't want to feel so weak. Why was he so deeply struck by something so trivial?

"There was that instance when you were decorating the gym for the dance." Alfred interrupted, throat dry. Eliza's words did, too, make alarming sense to him, and he started thinking that maybe, just maybe, the morbid joy of having Arthur lean on him and him only wasn't worth the repercussions.

"That doesn't count!" Arthur turned to him, looking slightly betrayed.

"Sorry, but it does." Alfred turned his gaze away, feeling slightly guilty for 'betraying' his boyfriend, as said boyfriend so kindly put it.

Eliza, though, seemed to express an interest in what he was about to say, her pencil hovering on the notepad, begging to write down the truth.

"The garland fell across your throat and you just... panicked." Alfred whispered unsurely, at a loss of better words to use. What Arthur had done was beyond panic. It was complete hysteria. "You only came back to reality when I hugged you. And you asked me not to leave." Alfred stared at his knees with wide eyes. Oh god. What had he done? If Arthur was going to rely on him this much to live right, then he would never forgive himself for messing him up in the first place.

"I wasn't... I didn't..." Arthur futilely tried to argue, but he didn't have anything. The truth was in Alfred's words. All that he could do now was plead guilty.

"Arthur, the quicker you accept it, the quicker you can heal." The nurse shook her head with a sigh, scribbling down the last words of her note -_ASAP attention to psych. req._- and pulling one of her drawers open.

Arthur tried very hard to not let out a desperate cry of frustration and clenched his hands so hard, Alfred's fingers started going a bit white. The latter made a noise of discomfort and kissed Arthur's cheek in an effort to lessen the pressure.

"I don't know anymore." Arthur just whispered, finally going lax and slumping in his seat after a while.

"I'm not going to let you go on like this." Eliza replied to that, pulling a small card out of her desk and handing it him. "My husband, Roderich, is a teenage psychiatrist and has been for quite some time. If you don't want to go to him, fine, but please." her eyes flashed with some kind of silent plea to help his case. "Please just find a professional who can help you."

Arthur's first impulse was to yell that he didn't need any help, but he contained his childish rage. He wasn't perfect. He was human. And he was weak. And all that was very normal.

But he didn't want to be weak anymore. He didn't want to burden Alfred, or anyone else, for that matter. He had to heal, get back up on his feet, and finally face everyone else at eye-level. Only once he could rise up to equality with everyone could he truly be strong.

It was time he stopped demanding help from others and helped himself.

Slowly, he took the card from Eliza's outstretched hand and gently slipped it into his pocket.

Eliza and Alfred smiled. Maybe, just maybe things could get better now.

"Alright then, we're done." The nurse declared after a small period of silence, getting up. "I'm glad everything's getting better. We've still got a ways to go, but it's a very good start."

"Thanks." Alfred replied, noticing how Arthur looked slightly lost, eyes glazed over. He gently pulled him up as he realized it was time to go out and say hello to the world that had mistreated them for a while now.

"My pleasure. If anything comes up, you're welcome to come tell me about it." Eliza encouraged as she accompanied them to the door.

"We will. Right, Artie?" Alfred nudged Arthur playfully, the latter replying with a soft punch to the shoulder.

"Git, my name's Arthur, and I might just do something drastic if you forget that one more time." He threatened emptily, because both of them knew that he was too happy with Alfred to do anything to compromise their relationship.

"Alright then, run off and enjoy the ball, boys. I daresay you have done a wonderful job on it, Mr President." Eliza winked, opening the door for them.

"Ah, thank you. You're welcome to come down, I mean, there are other teachers there, too." Arthur invited with a slight twitch of his lips.

"I might. Once I get things sorted up here, I'll come down to see the fruits of your endless labour. It better be worth the sleepless nights!" she chided jokingly.

"Yes Ma'am." Arthur chuckled slightly, nodding at her as Alfred all but tugged him out. "Good night. And..." he hesitated. "Thank you. For everything." He added in a lower voice.

Eliza just looked at him for a small while, then patted his head with a gentle smile.

"The pleasure is all mine. Repay me by smiling a bit, will you?" she giggled.

Arthur only had time to utter an embarrassed 'Wha-?' before Alfred drew him out.

Once out in the corridor, Alfred led him a bit further away, and then stopped.

"What's the rush, git?" Arthur huffed, rearranging himself as they finally stopped.

"Kinda felt claustrophobic, y'know? Man, did it get hot in there!" Alfred laughed loudly.

Arthur crossed his arms in disbelief, raising a brow.

"Okay, so maybe I was just eager to start being happy again. Sue me." Alfred huffed childishly.

"Idiot." Arthur rolled his eyes in amusement and stepped over, gently putting his arms around Alfred's neck. Almost on reflex, Alfred loosely circled his waist with his hands, leaning in. "You won't ever be unhappy as long as I'm here to make sure of it." He assured with a half-hearted chuckle.

He knew it would be hard. He knew it would be rough. And he didn't want to make promises he would one day have to break. But for now, he would live every day to its fullest and take challenges as they came because everything would be alright now. He didn't need to worry anymore. Especially since he had Alfred with him.

Beautiful, noble, funny, perfect Alfred. He already adored him so much, so he could imagine the bliss they'd be in once he got over his 'addiction' and got on equal footing with him. If only for that, he had to hurry up and get back on his feet.

He hesitantly leaned in to kiss him. Alfred tasted just as sweet as he did since the last time they'd kissed. Or sweeter. Maybe because of a lightened conscience? Either way, he loved the feeling of being held like he was worth something. It was truly intoxicating. Perhaps Eliza was right. Perhaps he was addicted to the feeling of Alfred's arms around him. Maybe not some variant of heroine, but Alfred was his hero, and he just couldn't get enough.

He kissed him again a few times, feeling his heart flutter with every gentle contact between lips, and sighed in content as he parted.

"I never got to thank you." Arthur whispered as he set his forehead against Alfred's.

"You don't have to. I simply did the right thing, like any hero should do." Alfred grinned brightly.

"Yeah, my hero." Arthur smirked and rolled his eyes sarcastically.

"Love you." Alfred whispered, pecking the tip of Arthur's nose.

Arthur simply smiled fondly and hoped from the bottom of his heart that those words would never stop between them.

"We can be happy now, right?" Alfred asked again, just to be sure.

"We never stopped being." Arthur muttered, ignoring the way Alfred's raised his brow in confusion.

"If you say so." Alfred pouted.

"I know so."

"Why do you think so?"

"Because everything's going to work out now. I'll be 18 in April. I can then move into an apartment and end the British occupation of your basement. We can work out our education together and follow our dreams. And we won't be far at all." Arthur thought out loud.

"If I get cold, then, I'll slip into your bed at night and cuddle you close. I'll make you breakfast in the morning so that we can avoid damage to the kitchen" and indignant squawk and an amused chuckle. "and I'll kiss you before you leave for school, come say hello where you work after classes, look forward to be welcomed home in the evening, grin while you tell me about your day, watch some boring movie with you and fall asleep next to you. Expect to be woken in the middle of the night to be told off into my own bed, but be unable to sleep, and come cuddle in yours. And repeat everything all over again." Alfred grinned again, warmth washing over him at the thought of such a tranquil, happy life.

"That's one routine I can get used to, I guess." Arthur shrugged with a smile and gently kissed Alfred once more. "Thank you, Alfred, for giving me something worth looking forward to. Despite everything that's happened and that will happen, you will always be the light that will guide me home."

Alfred knew better than to reply and bumped his nose lovingly with Arthur's. Actions spoke louder than words, sometimes. He didn't even think that words would be enough to describe the rush of that heart-wrenching, beautiful, practically maddening adoration that went through his system as Arthur softly chuckled, letting wisps of honey-sweet breath escape and ghost over Alfred's face.

On his side of the dreamlike situation, Arthur felt his mind blank out for a second as a rush of pleasure ran up his spine. He finally felt at peace here, safe within the boundaries of their dream. He never wanted this feeling to fade. He felt so breathless, so weak in the knees, so completely head-over-heels for this boy, this man, and he wanted to cry in frustration, for nothing he did or said could ever express how much he loved him. This inexplicable feeling was doomed to confinement in his heart because no matter how much he searched, he couldn't find anything that could come even close to what he felt for Alfred.

Their hearts beat as one for a moment. Reality faded out, and all that was left was the utter mutual passion that escaped their every breath. Arthur gazed fondly into the eyes of the boy he adored so much and realized that here, alone in the hallway, forehead-to-forehead, Alfred and he had created a moment of perfection.

_"As long as I have you, I'll be happy, even if I know that life will always be nothing more than a beautiful nightmare."_

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

**THE END. See that trademark ending? Yeah, if you see a fill on the kink meme in the near future that ends with the title... Chances are it's me. **

**Who thought the last sentence? I dunno. Both of them could have, either together, or just one of them. Up to you to decide. **

**About Arthur's condition, yeah, psychological dependence is a serious issue. Your brain thinks you NEED something to survive whilst you only WANT it so badly that you "force" your brain to make it a must. Arthur's 'addiction' to Alfred's presence is quite serious and has to be dealt with if they hope to live a normal life again.**

**So yeah, what's there to wrap up? Alfred and Arthur will go to college soon, get jobs, Arthur's dad can die in jail for all I care, Alasdair can either return to Pennsylvania or move to their town (and leave Peter with Tino and Berwald. Cause dude, what did you think Peter was doing all this time? He was totally crashing in the SuFin household ;D), and HAPPY ENDING WITH LOTS OF USUK AND CAVITIES, HOORAY :D**

**I won't promise anything, but I might write an epilogue some other time if I'm in the mood.  
><strong>

**So I just want to say: Thank you SO much, all of you, for all your support and comments. They really make me feel so warm inside and draw a smile every time I read them. And when I get gloomy, I go read them again and feel so much better ^^ You guys really know how to make my day. Thank you so SO much, once again. I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts about this fic one last time before we say goodbye in this story (hopefully to say "hey, what's up?" on another one, soon :D). So yes, that's all. Thank you all for your wonderful support, I really REALLY hope you enjoyed it, and please, if you have anything to say at any given time, this author will forever accept your reviews with a smile.**

**Cheers to you all,**

**~No Pain, No Gain**


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